


Hilde, Darling

by missema



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Distrust, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Ferelden, Friendship, Multi, Past Relationship(s), Polyamory, Post-Blight, Rebuilding, Relationship(s), Royalty, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 14:00:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 41,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3980725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missema/pseuds/missema
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the Blight, the bold, dashing warden, Hilde Amell, dared to proposition the queen, and Queen Anora almost said yes!  After all, if the beautiful queen was going to marry Hilde's lover Alistair, they might as well make the most of it.  She'd all but made a space in their bedroll for the queen before the Landsmeet, anticipating that once everything was slayed and done, things might progress between them - but that was before Hilde spared Loghain's life.  </p><p>Now on the outs with King Alistair, Hilde works to regain her sense of self and restore the love between them while helping to rebuild Ferelden.  To say that the queen remembers the attraction between her and the warden would be an understatement; it crackles between them as Hilde begins to work and live in the palace in Demerim, but Anora's used to keeping her own desires in check.  Besides, Anora has a burgeoning relationship with her new husband, who is still angry with Hilde, complicating all of their relationships.  </p><p>Ferelden needs them, but they need each other more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Dragon Age Big Bang 2015. Artist: tagyourspoilers.tumblr.com
> 
> Art posted at: http://yonadraws.tumblr.com/post/119505264418/here-is-my-piece-for-the-dragon-age-big-bang-i
> 
> Thanks to Nyssa for her wonderful artwork for this piece, and to my beta r0lf, who makes it all make sense. Any errors are probably things I forgot to correct and thus, are all my fault.

Before the Landsmeet, Denerim

Queen Anora looked at the infamous Warden, watching her as she walked through Arl Eamon’s estate. The warden was younger than she expected, even younger than Alistair. It made her feel so heavy to think about it, this war that they were waging and all the damage it that had come from it. 

There were better thoughts than ones of war and destruction that came to mind when Anora looked at the Warden. Hilde, her name was, and Anora didn’t say it for fear that she might like the way it sounded. It had been a long time she’d been attracted to someone in such a physical way, but Hilde caught her interest. She was pretty, with her nut brown skin turned into a silky bronze from extensive time outside, and odd plum colored hair that complimented her skin in a cascade of elaborate curls. Her body was toned but softly rounded, top heavy with neat hips that weren’t much bigger than her waist and thick, muscled legs. 

Anora had watched her full mouth as she spoke, brokering the deal that would grant Alistair the right to be king. It had hurt Hilde, making that deal, and in turn Anora found herself sympathetic to a woman she would gladly cheer up with all tools of her arsenal if given the chance. When not making deals to change nations, Anora would have guessed that the young warden was vivacious, outgoing and mischievious, which just happened to be some of Anora’s favorite qualities in lovers.

“Your Majesty, do you require anything?” Hilde asked.

“No, thank you. I am fine.” Anora said automatically, declining all but the necessaries while staying at Eamon’s estate. She would not be more indebted to him than she was.

Hilde smiled at her, giving her a sidelong look as she did. “Do you want for nothing at all?” she asked again, and this time, Anora was sure she was flirting with her.

“Nothing I can have at the moment.” Anora replied getting a laugh from the warden. Boldly taking Anora’s hand in hers, she slid a thumb over the soft skin on the inside of her wrist. The queen shivered through the length of her spine, as if the mage had shocked her with lightning instead of just the gentleness of her touch.

“If you think of anything that either Alistair or I could provide, you have only to say the word. We would be glad to oblige you. We work well together, but have especially memorable times with a third party.” Hilde cooed, and Anora melted. 

Images of the beautiful warden naked and wild, her heavy breasts bare and a moaning mouth calling for her flashed into her mind. The pulchritudinous wardens would accept her into their bed, for she knew they were lovers, and bring all of their persuasion and skill into a honeypot designed for her. Maker help her, she was considering it so heartily that wetness seeped through her smallclothes. It was a good thing Anora was possessed of more wits and coolness than anyone but her famous father. Fall into those delightful arms and into ruin she chided herself.

“I will, keep that generous offer in mind.” Anora said, her own nerve deserting her and the words coming out stiff and stilted. Hilde let go of her wrist, and she let it fall awkwardly back to her side.

Instead of making another attempt at flirtation, HIlde left the room after a small bow that showed off her impressive cleavage one last time. Anora wasn’t sure if that had been real or not, was it real attraction, answered by the warden or a shameless attempt to gain her favor, or both? The Landsmeet had yet to occur, perhaps this was just another way of securing her support. Or was it a whim of the reckless spirit she’d glimpsed in the other woman, the thing that reminded her so fiercely of Cailan? He would have been so daring, so sure of his own charm to approach her. Hilde was cut in somewhat the same mold, she could see that, but she couldn’t discern if there was a true attraction between them or if it was all in Anora’s mind. She wasn’t sure about much, but Maker, she knew she would think about that touch for days.

If only things might have worked out differently, she lamented as they made their deals and waited for the Landsmeet. But who knew what the future would hold for them all.


	2. Chapter 2

After the Battle of Denerim

"We need to work as a cohesive unit if we are to save Ferelden. The Blight may have been defeated, but we are war-weakened. We need coordination, and to root out the last darkspawn attacks, though there have been few since the archdemon fell.” All the eyes on the table were looking down at the map on the table, stuck with pins and filled with notes. She’d been planninng this almost the entire night before. “Ferelden can begin no recovery processes without resources, so we must get to the parts of the country that still have a few left. Relief from other nations won’t be here for weeks after they’re sure the Blight is truly over.” Hilde said. 

She was surrounded by the faces of the leaders of Ferelden - King Alistair, Queen Anora, Warden Loghain and Arl Eamon. At this point, she wasn't sure she was reaching anyone other than Eamon and Anora, but she didn't care. There were hurt feelings all around, but they all would have to deal, as she did. Just because Alistair no longer loved her and Loghain resented her didn't mean that they could ignore their responsibility. People were still dying out there, and now that her wounds were healed, she could go back to the business of saving lives. The army they had wasn't sufficient to get the whole of their country back on their collective feet and parades in her honor could only do so much. People needed food, shelter, a chance to get their lives back to normal - and like it or not, she was part of the government that could do it for them.

A lock of her purple hair escaped as she looked down at the northern coast, and she pushed it back with an exhausted wave. Alistair watched her hand as she did, and Hilde pretended not to notice his attention. Hilde caught Anora frowning at him, and then her in turn from the corner of her eye and stifled a sigh. Anora had once favored her with smiles, but as Alistair grew more sour, he poisoned the mood of all around him.

"The Warden is right." Eamon pronounced, and Alistair grimaced at him across the table. She feigned not seeing him again, and nodded at Eamon. She was getting pretty good at ignoring Alistair, at least in front of others. She couldn’t so easily fool herself when she was alone.

"We cannot afford to be divided after the Landsmeet. It has irretrievably weaken the crown, and the whole of Ferelden right now. We must present a united front, especially when we deal with other nations. There is no part of our country that was unaffected by the Blight, so there is no part we can afford to overlook right now." Eamon went on. "Let us all rally to the cause."

He was looking at Loghain when he said that last part, and Hilde sighed, letting the sound fully form this time. There was never going to be an end to the acrimony between the two of them, not in any foreseeable future. She was honestly amazed that they were getting along well enough to be in the same room, but Eamon really was trying to do what he thought best for Ferelden, in his mind. Alistair refused to speak to Loghain, even when in the same room, but that was no surprise. It was surprising that he hadn’t called for his death yet today, but it was still early.

The meeting broke soon after, with each person responsible for overseeing a different area of the country and steering it towards recovery, either by harnessing the resources or coordinating recovery efforts. That was just as well for her - once Hilde put the Denerim safe house back in order, she didn't need to be in the castle anymore. It wouldn’t take her long, and she could leave the oppressive air of Denerim and try to recover some of herself. She couldn’t do that here. Not with Anora looking at her expectantly, as if she were waiting on the answer to a question that Hilde had forgotten and Alistair giving her confusing icy stares that sometimes ended in smiles or snarls. 

She had picked her own path before, and she would do it again. She was a mage out of the Circle, and now the defacto leader of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden until she heard otherwise from Weisshaupt. If only she’d known back at the Circle when she’d helped Lily and Jowan that this was what would come of it. Hilde wondered if Highever would be more amenable to her presence, or if they were the type of city scared of mages and wardens alike. Wouldn’t know until she got there, she supposed, and there was no way to know but to go. That thought cheered her, because if she hated anything, it was being idle. As she left the table swinging her slender hips, her dog walked beside her, the most stalwart of her companions.

#

He wanted to be angry at her, at all of them, because there was just so much rage within him. He felt raw, too tired and still so empty since Ostagar. But Alistair found it hard to reconcile his feelings, even as mad as he was, because he still loved Hilde. She'd been the one to make things better for him, ever since they met. He loved her so much it burned inside of him, dousing out the flames of anger before they overtook him. Hilde had been everything to him, and when he let his mind rest, she was still his everything. 

Dreams of her came every night without cessation, both erotic and mundane. Alistair dreamed of her smile, of her holding his hand and kissing away his nightmares, of her hand wrapped firmly around his cock as she guided him into her. There was so much love there, but also such deep disappointment and an ache of betrayal that made him feel hollow inside. After everything they’d shared, seen and fought through, she had the nerve to sit him at a table with Loghain and talk strategy.

"You should at least talk to her, Your Majesty." Eamon said in a quiet voice as he caught up with Alistair. He was wheezing softly, hard breath rattling his lungs. Alistair slowed his stride so that Eamon wouldn't have to tax himself further. He was still ill, even after the healing of the Sacred Ashes.

"She won't talk to me." Alistair pointed out, earning a sigh from Eamon. 

"Considering that the last time she tried, you bellowed for her to leave so loudly the whole castle heard it, I can't see why she'd be eager." Eamon chided. As he looked at Alistair, he was every inch the stern avuncular figure that had raised him until he’d left for the Chantry. It made Alistair feel about seven years old again. Then Eamon softened a little as he added, "Hilde was just trying to protect you, as was her duty. You are her king. There is true love there, she would have died in your stead if it had been demanded, and you know it."

This was an argument that had been worn over more than a few times in the days since the defeat of the archdemon. It rankled him that he hadn't been there, fighting at her side as Loghain had. Loghain the traitor who now sat in his hall and wore Warden blue as he kissed Anora’s cheek and nodded at HIlde as a comrade in arms. Loghain, who had sold elves into slavery to fund his civil war based on paranoia after he’d left so many to die at Ostagar. There was so much for him to hate in that scenario, Alistair almost didn't know where to start. That was what he saw when he sat at that table, discussing the future of Ferelden with the man so ready to see it end, and it made rage boil within him. But the blame was best left where it was, on the person who engineered and organized events to fall out thus - Hilde.

"The Hero of Ferelden and I have nothing more to talk about. Ever." Alistair said and walked on, leaving Eamon behind in the hall, shaking his head. 

The talk with Eamon put Alistair into an even stormier mood than the tasks he'd been given. He would go to Gwaren to secure lumber and skilled help for the rebuilding of Denerim and then come back to supervise the rebuilding of the capital. They were sending him there so he could gain respect in the eyes of Loghain’s former people - he had been the teyrn there since the end of the rebellion. Alistair would rather have just stayed in Denerim, but politics was a game of chess and there was no way to learn but to move the pieces around. 

There was never to be more than one monarch out of the city at a time, not for the first six months of rebuilding. Anora would stay while he went to Gwaren, then go off on her own to Redcliffe. She had to go and make peace with Teagan, since the war had cast them against each other. Though she’d betrayed no emotion at the planning table, he was sure she wasn’t thrilled about her assignment either.

No one had protested the plan, but he didn't like it, mostly because it let Loghain wander around the bannorn alone, supposedly fighting darkspawn. Or gathering traitorous allies. His own part felt like a farce, for Alistair knew next to nothing about ruling, rebuilding or whatever else Denerim might need. He was as decent with a hammer as any raised in the Chantry could claim, but anything more skilled than that would be best left to others. He felt so inadequate, thrown into the depths with no chance of catching his breath before being expected to save himself. Across the table from him, Hilde had been as serene and in control as if she'd taken lessons from Anora. The two of them at least had that in common.

Anora was his wife, their hasty wedding conducted just days before, immediately after his coronation. He shook his head incredulously, still finding that hard to believe. Marriage is not generally part of the plan after joining the Wardens, but his life had strayed far from his expectations. He felt like he should be more connected with this life, he was after all, the son of King Maric, but it felt surreal to him. Alistair felt like his real life had been up until the Landsmeet and everything since a strange fever dream that was neither pleasant nor truly nightmarish.

These were thoughts he tried not to indulge, because it was useless to wish his life away and hope to wake up from it. It was what it was now. Perhaps in the future it would evolve into something less difficult for him, that he might find an ease that he now couldn't see. For now, it was all duty and demands, and the rewards looked far off. With that on his mind, Alistair turned towards the ramparts of the castle. He needed to see Denerim, to feel the heavy, stale air that was still cloudy with ash and remember why he'd agreed to become king in the first place.

#

Loghain sat across from his daughter, the queen, both with snifters of brandy in their hands. Anora was so very tired from the day, but her father had requested this late audience with her before he rode off in the morning. He was the first of their war recovery council to leave Denerim, and Anora could see his relief. The city and the life it afforded it hadn't ever been his preferred place. He stayed out of a sense of duty, though now it was only the Wardens and her that made him stay. Loghain never enjoyed the politicking of the capital, but someone had to play the watch guard first for King Maric, then Cailan. She admired that about him; his dedication to his task, no matter how unpleasant he found it. 

"Anora, the Warden has decided to give me an escort, of sorts." Her father said. Anora hadn’t seen him or HIlde all day. They’d been out working to put the warden safehouse back in order. 

Loghain was very careful how he spoke of the Warden. Never disrespectful or outwardly wary, but careful, as if he were still debating on what he thought of her, even after they'd agreed to work together.

"What do you mean?"

"She has asked Ser Cauthrien and a two of my former knights to accompany me on my journey through the Bannorn. They are not Wardens, but they are all able fighters. She thinks it is better to travel in numbers until the darkspawn and unrest are quelled completely. She's quite right." Loghain rattled all of this off in an indifferent tone, but Anora finally heard his opinion. He admired Hilde, at least a little.

"You agree? Even though it might be little more than an opportunity to keep eyes on you? Or a plot to get you killed?” Anora did not have much trust in Hilde, not where her father was concerned.

"If she wanted to do that, she could have come herself. Besides, they were once my knights, and they are loyal to me. She could have hardly have picked worse spies if she did want to monitor me. I think she truly does want safety and unity." Loghain chuckled at his daughter. "Anora, you must accept the fact that some people say what they mean. You've been playing with those damnable Orlesians for too long. There is no Game here. Your guileless new husband should be proof enough of that."

She ignored the attack on Alistair, for she herself had harbored the thoughts along the same lines about him. She wasn't as sure about Hilde. The woman, hero that she was, barely spoke to Anora after the Battle of Denerim, keeping her distance at all times. It was as if they ceased to be on the same side once the crisis was over. All she could say for certain about Hilde was what she caught in the unguarded moments before the warden could wipe her emotions from her face. The dimming of the hopeful sparkle in the eyes when Alistair would enter the room, or the anger that gathered her full mouth and pinched it into a sour expression when he slighted her so consistently that it was unseemly. The woman was still in love with Alistair and he with her, though neither would do anything about it besides use it as a weapon. Their angst about the Landsmeet and the way it played out had been understandable at the time, but Anora found it tiresome now. Let Alistair crawl back into Hilde's bed, Anora was content enough as it was.

"You think the Warden would be so careful with her one-time enemy?" she asked.

"As I remember it, at the Landsmeet we were not on the same side either." her father remarked. His tone lacked heat, he was positively placid as he said it, but the truth was an accusation in itself. 

She blushed; she couldn't help the reaction. "It was not as if it were unnecessary at the time. I had limited options. However, if you trust these soldiers and her opinion, then I will leave it be, father."

Loghain heaved a heavy sigh and put down his glass. "I only told you because I would not want you to worry unduly about me. I will not be alone. And also," he stopped and looked directly at her, "to urge you to be kinder to Hilde. She does what she must, as do we all. You judge her too harshly."

Once, she might have let loose the hard, bitter laughter that threatened to clog her throat. Alistair's would-be mistress, the woman Loghain had so feared that he'd let Howe send the Antivan Crows after her? Her father was defending the Warden from her! It was almost unthinkable, but Loghain's lined face was earnest and she clamped her mouth shut on the laughter. It had never been easy to talk to her father, but since he became a warden it was like navigating a minefield. Her next words came out slowly and were chosen with great deliberation.

“Despite my personal admiration for all she’s accomplished, the Warden is dangerous, however, and I will not treat her as if she isn’t. In the past she’s shown sound judgement on and off the battlefield, but I do not trust that she knows what she wants, especially when it comes to Alistair.” Anora said. She took a sip of the brandy, let the warm smoothness of it roll around in her mouth and stifle all that she might have said about Hilde. Her father needn’t know everything.

Loghain cleared his throat, scowling into his drink as he did. “Yes, it’s plain that those feelings run deep. However, you can take measures if you are concerned about that. Have her watched, Anora. I daresay she’s expecting it. Were I not a Grey Warden myself, I would recommend watching any warden, especially her. But now, knowing their duty, I would urge you not to delve too deeply into warden secrets. Just have her monitored from a distance.”

She put her hand on her father’s arm and patted it. Whatever secrets he knew of the Wardens, she would not ask him to divulge them to her, so she turned the conversation back to Hilde. “I will consider your words, but I have more to think about than one person when Ferelden needs so much."

Loghain smiled at her, wide and proud. "Ferelden first, my dear. Always."

"Ferelden first, father." she echoed.


	3. Chapter 3

The first light hadn't yet broken over the docks when both Hilde and Loghain departed the Royal Place in Denerim. They were headed in different directions, and neither bade the other goodbye. When Hilde felt eyes on her, she knew it wasn't Loghain and looked towards the castle. Even in the dull pre-dawn light, she could see Alistair's armor shining as he stood on the ramparts. She turned to look directly at him, and he looked back at her. There was too much distance between them to speak, but she could see him clearly. 

He too would be leaving soon, but the King always left when it was light, to the fanfare of the trumpets she'd hoped to avoid. When she raised her arm in farewell, another attempt to communicate with him, but she got no response. She blew him an ostentatious kiss and gave a bow, and as expected, got nothing in return. It did make her smile to tweak him, just that small amount. Hilde whistled to the dog at her side to start moving again, and Bruno did, so used to following her after the past year.

Once outside of the gates of Denerim, Hilde wouldn't need to walk as if this were the Blight all over again. Not anymore, for she was the Hero of Ferelden! There would be a covered cart waiting. She had a ride arranged on a mail wagon to Highever, and she was glad to ride along with the couriers. Mail had been backed up in the capital, letters and messages telling of death or continued life were so numerous that instead of the customary bag of mail and one rider there were two and her, pulling a caravan. When she met her escorts she smiled at the young soldier with the bow on her back and the wizened old man who drove the cart. They were much better company than she’d found in the castle walls, once they got over their awe at meeting her.

Their ride was mostly uneventful - she warned them of the few darkspawn she sensed well before they got close and then took them down on her own - and the further northwest they went, the less they encountered. Bandits tried once to ambush them, but once Hilde called on her magic, they sped off back into their hiding places to wait for easier prey. She sussed them out with the help of a few well placed spells and her archer companion shot true.

It took a few days ride to get to their destination, but it was much quicker than walking. They’d bypassed Amaranthine to make the trip speedier, and Hilde realized that she didn’t know if she could even go there. The legality surrounding taking the land from the Howe line, which was not extinct and returning it to the crown to then give to the Grey Wardens was tricky and would take some time. It wasn’t her affair as of yet, since the monarchy was still in the midst of seizing the place from its arl while placating the local banns and Teyrn Cousland, since Amaranthine fell in his teyrnir. 

Highever glittered in the late afternoon sunlight when they finally arrived, the city bustling like Denerim had before the Blight. She had never been this close to the Waking Sea, and it shown bright and blue as sunlit stained glass in the distance. It surprised HIlde to see it; the wagon came over a crest and there it was looking closer than it had any right to look. The sight of it dizzied her, but she regained herself within the bustle of the city. She did love cities, even poor ruined Denerim, when she wasn’t in the castle. There was a market square packed with people and booths of all kinds, and a very busy harbor that brought a steady line of goods to the markets by mule, wagon and the power of broad shouldered carriers. She breathed in deep the smell of fish and sea salt and baking bread that lingered in the air as they passed by a stall stacked high with cakes and loaves.

Hilde was wagon weary, her bottom ached and her legs in need of stretching. She'd never been to Highever during the Blight, but the darkspawn hadn't made it that far north in force. It still had its troubles, but with Fergus Cousland restored to his family seat, it was one of the strongest areas in Ferelden. She’d wanted to come here, to free herself from the grip the Blight still had on her. Her nightmares featured archdemons and Alistair’s angry face and Denerim crumbling before her eyes. It was good to be away, to be reminded that some things remained much as they had been before. Not exactly, but nothing in Ferelden would be as it was before the Blight.

Her destination was Castle Cousland, and she let the couriers drop her as close as they could without delaying their delivery. She walked for a short distance until she reached the gate and was admitted, just her, Bruno and her small pack. The teyrn was surprised by her lack of entourage and fanfare, but she waved his concern away. It was nice to just see a place at first, to observe it like the perpetual tourist she was. On the morrow she would dress as a warden and heft her staff as she went to help the people. Then they would know her, but that day she was grateful for the anonymity. It allowed her to walk the streets and see them for the first time unperturbed.

“May I show you to your room, my lady?” Fergus Cousland asked, looking strained and tired as he did. She had been told what had happened here during the Blight, and there was talk that Castle Cousland was a desolate, lonely place. She hadn’t seen it in the castle, but in the teyrn himself.

Outwardly, Fergus Cousland was a hearty, robust man that seemed to fill his armor to capacity. He had clear dark eyes that matched his hair, and a mouth that looked like it used to grin often. But he was grief-stricken, tired and overworked. The combination had taken his boyish face and sunk it with lines that it didn’t yet deserve.

His sadness wasn’t unique in Ferelden, not among the commoners or nobles, but something indefinable about it endeared him to Hilde right away. There was still strength in him, a determination to keep going. It took courage to live. Her response was soft, quiet and grateful.

“Yes, please. It’s been a long road since Denerim.”

“I’ll bet. I hope the king and queen fare well.” he said, leading her down a stone hallway lined with guards in Cousland colors. They saluted as the two of them walked towards her chambers.

“They do. Work continues in all corners of the country, but especially in the capital. I expect it to be half rebuilt by the time I return.” Hilde said.

“That is good to hear. King Alistair seems a good match for the queen. It’s amazing,” Fergus commented, leading her further into the castle as she and her dog trailed along, “we never even knew King Maric had another son. There were whispers of course, but if you listen to all the rumors you’d think I have a griffon stored here in secret and that Loghain Mac Tir has a secret child.” Fergus laughed at his own joke and HIlde managed a polite titter. She would not like to see his face if he knew how the Blight was truly ended between Morrigan’s admirable thighs.

“I did not know him as Maric’s son, just as another warden.” Hilde said, “but we’ve lost even that connection now that he is king.”

Cousland said nothing, but pushed open the door to a large guest room with two bed. Bruno immediately claimed his own spot in front of the fireplace. He curled up on the hearthrug with a snuffle and then ignored her. Some thoughtful maid had put out water for him, in a dish against the wall. It was warm out, but stone walls always held a chill in them and she was glad for the fire. Perhaps it might get truly hot this far north, but she remembered the chill of the tower and how even magical fire had never seemed enough to keep her from shivering at night.

“Thank you for your kindness, Teyrn Cousland I will be fine here until dinner.” Hilde said.

Fergus Cousland nodded at then turned to leave. His hand hesitated on the door and he faced her once again. “Is Queen Anora, is she alright? I mean, is she well?”

Hilde thought about it for a moment, recalling their last meeting before she left the palace. “The queen is a remarkably strong woman, and is focused on rebuilding her country with her new king. The transition is…ongoing, but I think she is well enough.”

“You didn’t kill Loghain in revenge for all that he chaos that he caused, the slander he tried to perpetuate against your order. I might not have been able to spare him had it been my enemy in his place.” He admitted, giving her a small nod. She wondered if it was approval or something else.

“I did kill Arl Howe, as you may recall.”

“And the world is better off for it. He murdered my family right here, in these very walls, in our own home.” The teyrn was momentarily overwhelmed but then composed himself with a visible effort. “Grey Warden, I lost my whole family to an ambush. I ask after the queen because my losses remind me of her own. It is not easy to send your spouse to the pyre.”

“I imagine it isn’t. My condolences.” Hilde offered, unsure what else to say. Everything that came to her mind felt insufficient, so she tired to infuse her words with as much compassion as she could. She had meted out a great deal of death since leaving the tower, but knew little of comfort. Darkspawn were mindless and endless, never leaving behind families or fracturing alliances with their loss. There would always be more of them, of demons and abominations, but Fergus Cousland would never be able to replace the family he lost.

“Forgive me, this is not something I should burden a guest with, especially not the Hero of Ferelden.” he said, and she laughed at the title. “I only meant to ask after the queen. We were friends once, when we were younger.” he said.

“There is nothing to forgive.”

“You are kind.” Cousland said, the added, “I am not sure how to feel about Loghain now. I know that he was part of the attack on my family, by supporting Howe. It’s hard to think of him as a villain after a lifetime of hero-worship. I don’t think he would have hurt us himself, but I am surprised you spared him.”

“I was in need of skilled warriors, and had the new King of Ferelden to protect. I did not want to lose Queen Anora as an ally. It seemed the best solution, at the time, despite my personal losses.”

Teyrn Cousland nodded. “I had heard that you’d, um, fallen out of favor with the King.” She liked his directness, she could give him that. In her experience, not many nobles would be as bold, save for Bann Teagan.

Hilde gave a mirthless laugh that answered him as well as words. “Alistair was, is, very unhappy with me. Unlike you, he could hold Loghain directly responsible for the losses at Ostagar of the soldiers and our order, and he still does. But it is my hope that in time he forgive me for saving him by saving the life of another.”

Fergus Cousland shook his head. “You are a brave and selfless woman. Not many would have made the same decision, were it offered.” He moved towards the door then hesitated unsure of what to do next. Then he saluated her, as if she were one of his soldiers. “I shall leave you to rest. Someone will come for you for dinner. Rest well.”

“Thank you.” Hilde said and then like her dog dropped unceremoniously onto a bed and fell asleep.

#

He'd watched Hilde leave, but her departure hadn't given Alistair the sense of relief he'd anticipated. That cheeky woman had blown a kiss to him, like he’d watched her do from the Proving Grounds in Orzammar as she went into a fight. He remembered her - fearless, beautiful, brave woman - and then got mad that he thought of her so fondly when she was only trying to vex him. He was almost sure that she enjoyed annoying him! Hilde occupied too much of his thoughts, far too often for his liking. There were other things to think of, kingly things, and Alistair wrenched his mind towards them. His own journey came to the forefront, but try as he might most of his thoughts were consumed by the sight of her wave and that kiss as she set off into the distance.

Anora was in her study when he went by and Alistair, with nothing better to do before his own boat left, made his way in. Seeking her out hadn’t been a conscious plan, but he wanted to say goodbye. They were just getting friendly and that was a friendly thing to do. For all her faults, he didn’t blame Anora for her father’s sins, just as he hoped she didn’t tar him with those of his brother. She looked up when he closed the door behind him, giving her a sheepish smile when he faced her.

"I wanted to say goodbye before we had to do the official song and dance." he said. That wasn't it, at least not the whole reason he'd been pacing around the castle, but it was enough. 

Anora got up from behind her desk and made her way over to him. Her face was devoid of expression, and she looked as peaceful and pretty as a painted doll. Anora was so beautiful, ethereal and graceful at all times. She took his hand in hers, carefully watching his face as he did. He wondered what she was looking for until she asked, "did you watch her go?"

“Yes." he laughed again, nervous under the gentle scrutiny.

"Are you upset that she's gone, or that you didn't go with her?"

Alistair shrugged, squashing the thought of it would have been like to go with Hilde again, to set out on the road with her once more. That was how he’d gotten to know her best, to love her. "I'm not sure, but it will be fine. I have my own travels to begin."

Anora laughed softly, "And the servants have kicked you out of your room while they pack?" she asked, still holding his hand. He liked the feel of it, so soft and smooth and dainty, as opposed to his large, clumsy, calloused ones.

"Something like that." he agreed. "Listen, does she bother you? We agreed to a relationship before the Landsmeet..." he trailed off, stopping short of saying 'before Hilde let your father live and join the Grey Wardens’.

Those memories were fraught with things he didn’t want to remember. He didn’t want to think of Hilde sneaking into his room in Arl Eamon’s estate and slipping into his bed. They’d talked long into the nights, about everything. There had been a bottle of wine, passed between them until it was empty, dreams of the future, of dancing together at his coronation, and kisses that had the sour sweet taste of wine. “I’ll do anything to keep you safe, love.” she’d said. He should have realized when she’d said ‘safe’ and not ‘happy’ what was going through her mind.

Anora took her time in answering him, allowing him time to wade through memory before bring him back to the present. Instead of giving him a direct answer to his question, she asked, "Do you know how to dance, Alistair?"

He nodded and she pulled him into position so they could do a quick box step. He mirrored her movements, relieved that she didn't want him to try one of the elaborate dances that were so popular with the courtiers. 

Leliana and Zevran had taught him and Hilde how to dance at camp. Both of the rogues were trained in such things, though Leliana was far more practiced than Zevran. Zevran knew just enough to blend in, to avoid sticking out if he were invited to a formal event as something other than a servant. It had come in handy during the ball after his coronation and marriage. Alistair had to close his mind against the memories that threatened to surge up within him; his nostalgia often swept him up in these times of heartache. He could almost hear Hilde laughing, see her lit by firelight, feel her neatly fitted up against his body as they began a slow waltz to a tune plucked out on Leliana's lute. She’d stepped on his feet so often he took to padding the tops of his boots. With an effort, he focused on Anora, the feeling of her hands as she placed them into her desired position and then her smile up at him as they began to dance.

"I'll lead." They'd both said at the same time, but she deferred to him with a small laugh. 

"As to your question," she began as he carefully guided her back and forth in the empty space in her study, "I don't mind Hilde's presence. It could be beneficial watching her, though I know it is difficult for the two of you."

This wasn’t dancing as he remembered it. Every move made Alistair all too aware that he was holding a different person than the one with whom he’d learned. Anora was stiff, formal, and graceful even in his halting lead. Hilde had been almost as bad as he when they started out, and laughed more than she danced as she stumbled through the steps. His embrace around his wife was as correct as he could manage to make it, but he still felt self-conscious and spent more of his energy making sure he was moving correctly than listening to her words. He always felt this way around Anora, though she never outwardly bore him any signs of ill will or resentment. She was always the perfect queen, even in private.

“It is hard,” he said, answering after their silence went on too long. “I know logically that she’s just trying to make things better, though I have to remind myself of it from time to time. But I will do what’s best for Ferelden, no matter how I feel.”

“As do we all.” Anora agreed. She slowed and they carefully came to a stop after a few more turns about the room. “Perhaps some time away from each other will do you good. I hope it will.” Anora smiled at him. “Safe waters to and from Gwaren, King Alistair.” She said.

“Thank you, Queen Anora.” He replied, and bowed to her as thanks for the dance.

It wasn’t much, but he felt like she’d taken another step in cementing their fledgling friendship. Watching HIlde leave Denerim had been unexpectedly difficult, but Anora had soothed him. Perhaps there would be more to their marriage than a rocky friendship and grudging compromise. He hoped so.

#

It was almost afternoon when King Alistair’s ship finally set sail from Denerim. Anora returned to the palace after wishing him a proper goodbye and collapsed neatly into a chair. She rang for tea and had it brought to her while she put her feet up. She needed to be alone, to let her mind have some quiet and reflect. It had been a day of too many farewells, first Hilde, then her father and finally her husband. Alistair. Her husband. It was still surreal to her that she could have lost Cailan and then wound up marrying his estranged bastard brother. 

It was impossible not to compare the two brothers in her mind, and though she’d tried to resist the temptation at first, Anora learned that her effort was futile. They were so alike in the smallest ways that she had to bite her tongue not to call Alistair by the wrong name at least twice a day. They shared the same kind of enthusiasm, not even to be dampened by terrible odds, but Alistair, unlike Cailan, had a small amount of cynicism that tempered his foolishness. He had seen more of the world and felt the brunt of it from time to time. It came out in dark laughter or comments that held an edge that Cailan would never have acquired, not even after years of dealing with the nobility. 

Alistair had a confidence that had eluded his brother. There was no need to prove himself in the myriad ways that Cailan had sought out. Alistair was a warrior, and had lived that life with the Wardens. He did not challenge the guards endlessly, thinking up fighting scenarios and elaborate games to play. Where he lacked confidence was in leadership, but there were a steely determination in him that Anora hadn’t expected. It was more like Maric than Cailan, but she wasn’t so foolish as to mention that to him. Alistair knew nothing of Maric and didn’t care for family history. Her one foray into gauging his interest in it had been shut down with a glare and she didn’t bring it up again.

She had been prepared for them to be similar, or at least, more alike than they were. The plan to marry had been one she’d agreed with, but Anora had been prepared to resent Alistair. At first, she had, this bumbling, bad copy of her late husband, so certain that she could not be trusted, that her father must die. There had been so much room for her to hate him, to hold every glare that he sent her father against him. She could have taken score and fill her veins with ice just to injure him, swatting down all his attempts to befriend her. It would have been easy.

But Alistair was nearly ten years her junior and had never wanted this life for himself. He had been content to be Grey Warden, happy and in love. He could have just as easily hated her. He did resent Hilde, but it was borne of his love for her, and the hurt that came from not ending a wrong that they’d set out to fight together. She could see both sides, though she lacked the experience to properly empathize with either of them. She’d never been in love, nor betrayed in such a way and she could not be angry that Hilde saved her father, the only family she had left in the world. Alistair would have to grow used to it.

Had someone ever told her she would be up to her neck in Grey Wardens, she might have laughed. If anyone had proposed that Cailan might want to rethink the ban on them his father overturned, it would have been just as laughable. Knowing him, that would have just made him fall more in love with the order and invited them to stay in the castle. Now they lived here in the palace with her, one of them as her king.

What she liked about Hilde was obvious - she was smart, fair, and logical. There were still hints of attraction simmering between them, though Anora couldn’t pursue it without it seeming like a slight on Alistair. It was forgotten for the moment, but it had no bearing on the reasons why she respected the warden. Hilde’s own feelings rarely played into her decisions, she showed good judgment and she could be relied upon. That was as close as Anora got to friendship in her position. The only other person that held those traits was Erlina, though her maid also had her trust, which was not something she was ready to bestow upon Hilde yet. Why she held Alistair in good graces was less apparent to most people.

The night of their hasty, short wedding, they were obliged to spend together. Cailan had been her only lover, and was quite enthusiastic about their love life at first. She guessed that Alistair would be similar, albeit less experienced. One year with Hilde was not equal to all the lovers and whores Cailan had bedded before their wedding night. When Anora entered his chambers, ready to do what was required and nothing more, she found Alistair in bed, the blanket pulled up around his neck. He looked impossibly young and apprehensive in that moment, with the white counterpane tucked up so high. When she’d approached the bed, he drew back his blanket. On his bare chest rested a stack of playing cards. He’d grinned at her while she stood next to him, openmouthed and shocked.

“Look, I know we are supposed to spend this night together and all of that, but Hilde and I, she was, we were…” he bit his lip and looked away from her. “Well, I guess I’m just not ready for that with someone else. I don’t know how you feel, but I don’t think you like me very much. So I hoped that I could convince you with my awful Diamondback and maybe a hand of Wicked Grace that we could be friends or something less than married people who don’t like each other and married for duty. Or something.”

The stack of cards lay there, face down on the hard, scarred plain of his chest. It looked ridiculous, tied with red string and rising and falling with his breath, and Alistair grinned at her from the pillows propping him up. She’d thought about how he must have planned this, bringing the cards with him and holding onto them all through their wedding ceremony. Then Anora remembered sitting down on the bed and laughing until her stomach hurt. She laughed so long and so hard that he joined in with her, and tears rolled freely from her eyes. It felt like the first time she’d laughed since Cailan died. The memory still made her smile.

She had a thoughtful, kind man for a husband. They’d never made love, but that wasn’t what really sealed a relationship. What they’d done that night and the nights after, talking to each other, learning in such a short time to let their guard down, that was what made their short marriage bearable for her. It was more important to their relationship than any awkward, strained sexual encounter could have been.


	4. Chapter 4

Highever didn’t especially need a Wardens attentions, but they did need help cleaning up from the civil war and to shore up their supply lines to the capital. Hilde had selected it as her destination for the lack of Blight related problems alone - let Loghain deal with the darkspawn. She’d killed enough of them. The civil war had hit the city harder than the Blight, though darkspawn were seen closer to Amaranthine, in the furthest part of the teyrnir from its ruling seat. She had plans to go and help when she could there, but bringing Highever in line what the mandates from Queen Anora demanded much of her attention. Her presence there heartened a city that had lost their benevolent ruling family and thought them all dead until Fergus Cousland had come home from Ostagar, nearly a year after the battle. 

After a year fighting the darkspawn and helping to create the destruction that had claimed Lothering and nearly swallowed Redcliffe and Denerim, Highever was a blessing. The work was about reassuring people, regaining what had been lost and supporting Ferelden. The people here were proud and happy to share what they had. She was able to streamline the supplies coming into Denerim and make sure they went to other parts of Ferelden where they were also needed. There was so little organization, but she and Fergus restructured all the trade coming through and got the coffers in order. Highever wasn’t wealthy as it had been, but there was enough to pass along. Her botany studies would make good use of her soil samples and the seeds she got from Highever, though the terynir was more of a harbor than an agricultural center. 

With Denerim so heavily damaged, Highever’s port was taking part of the slack, as was Amaranthine. She worked with Fergus keep things running, without Highever, anything coming from the Free Marches or Orlais would be delayed and Ferelden couldn’t afford for that to happen. Her presence there added legitimacy to Fergus’s rule, and brought him prestige, which was she glad to do. There had been whispers about whether the Cousland line would go on, if their one son could bear the strain alone, and she had to admit that he was bearing up better than could be expected, given the state of things. Then again, it was always easier when there were things to do, and there was much to keep them busy.

It wasn’t all work for HIlde, even though she was assisting Ferelden’s recovery and aiding the teyrn of Highever. She learned much at Fergus’s side, and his easy demeanor and clear explanations were a welcome break from Denerim politics. As a Circle mage she knew little of nobility and enjoyed watching and learning about the interplay of politics on a more localized level. He was a wealth of information about many things, not just Ferelden. Fergus patiently taught her how to mimic a duck call and explained which ships were used for hauling and which for just sailing. He took her out on the water within her first week and later out for a hunt so she could use her duck call. She’d never shot anything before, except with her magic.

Fergus was not usually an archer, preferring his sword and shield, though he was good enough to hunt duck and other birds with a bow. Hilde knew nothing of hunts, save for the kind she’d done during the Blight to procure food. Even then, Alistair and Leliana had done a great deal of it, while she and Morrigan kept up the plant stores for food and healing herbs. The hunt with Fergus and few of his knights was slow paced, focused on calling the birds from the sky, and came down to more talking than actual shooting.

The explanations to her questions took longer than the lesson, and Fergus began to lead her away from the water and back towards the castle. They walked together, talking and listening each in turn. It was easy to converse with Fergus. Hilde wondered when he had become Fergus and not Teyrn Cousland in her mind, but she honestly couldn’t remember a change. Fergus was alight with kindness, explaining to her the differences in hunts by region in Ferelden, and whether or not they were using dogs.

The lesson rambled on, even as they put away their weapons in the armory. Her loaned bow and arrows still felt clumsy in her hands and Hilde was glad to be rid of them. Fergus took off first his small weapons, then his sword and shield, talking all the while. It must have been pure instinct, but they both leaned forward at the same time. She was retrieving her staff and he depositing his shield. Hilde’s mouth was so close to his she could feel him draw in breath when he broke off his sentence. 

She wasn’t sure if he wanted her to kiss him, but she did it anyway. It was impulse, pure whim, but Hilde pressed her mouth up against his, crushing his lips under an onslaught she hadn’t realized was pent inside. There was no hesitation in his response, no shock at the boldness of her move. Fergus kissed her back, slanting his mouth against hers, pulling her body closer to him with a strong forearm around her waist. The only uncertainty she felt was in the stutter of his breath, him stopping his gauntlet clad hands before they tangled too hopelessly in her long hair.

When she began to respond too thoroughly, her body drawing into his heat and getting more excited at his nearness, Hilde pulled away. It wasn’t that she didn’t desire Fergus, quite the opposite, but rather she wanted to be sure that he wanted her. They’d spoken a few times about his losses during the Blight, but theirs was a burgeoning friendship. She had no desire to ruin it by making their relationship physical too soon.

“I’m not sure this is the time.” she said, explaining why she left his arms when he looked up at her.

“Or the place.” he agreed. The door was open and there were guards outside of it, and people passing in the hall that could have witnesses them, though she’d heard no footfalls.

“Was I too bold?” she asked.

Fergus chuckled. “It was bold, but welcome. Maker, sometimes I feel like it might swallow me,” he ran a hand through his hair and added, “I can’t believe that this is my real life now. I’m a widower. But it is good to know that I can still attract a beauty.”

A blush crept up her cheeks. “Really, teyrn, I thought you’d have better lines than that. For now, let’s wait and see. We still have a good amount of time together and I wouldn’t want you to think that I value your conversation less than your other skills.”

“Alright, but this is not an end to the conversation, my lady warden. I rather liked where things were going between us.” he said.

“I assure you it isn’t. Let us be sure before we carry on any further, and not let it mar our friendship. I have precious few friends, Fergus. I’d like to count you among them.” she said.

“You may.” he said, and extended his arm to her. “Let me walk you to room. A meal must be on the way now that we’re back. I could do with a good steak right now; I’m famished.” he said.

Hilde laughed at his change of subject, but allowed him to take her arm. She did like him a great deal, even if much of what she liked about him sometimes brought Alistair to mind. That thought bothered her and she let it slip away as she was deposited in her room with another quick kiss to her cheek.

#

Gwaren gave Alistair a proper king’s welcome, even if many of their inhabitants did grumble for a variety of reasons. Some missed the old teyrn, and regretted his loss to the wardens. Loghain was well liked among his people, until the Blight came and he all but abandoned them. Others disliked the king coming to their city to take resources when they were so few people to work there in the first place, but that resentment was not unexpected. 

They were taking resources from Gwaren, but there were far less people here than there had been before. Much of Gwaren’s population survived the Blight by leaving on their ships, leaving less than half the population it had before. Some returned, but many others had not, leaving noticeable empty spots, houses without a fire going, forges unlit, empty stables. There was however, much love for another son of ‘Maric the Savior’. Zevran was a welcome relief from that, though the Crow was still cross with him for leaving before the end of the Blight. Alistair could tell, even if Zevran didn’t put words to the accusation.

“We have much to arrange and even more to speak about, King Alistair.” Zevran had said upon their meeting. Then he’d laughed that lilting laugh, and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “The title fits you well. You seem more kingly now.”

“The crown helps.” Alistair said.

“I suppose it does. But we aren’t here for you, not today, my friend.” Zevran said, his tone so jaunty that it made Alistair suspicious. “Gwaren is suffering for lack of a leader. It is good that you are here, they need to see someone, anyone, since Loghain is gone. His estates were raided, but I managed to reacquire some of his goods when your forward team of guards and I secured his former home. I imagine the queen would be most displeased if all of her fathers belongings were carried away.”

“Thank you. You were right, I think Anora would like to know some of his things were saved. You can have them sent to her.”

“You don’t want to see them?’ Zevran asked, a little surprised.

“No.”

Zevran chose not to pursue that line of questioning so changed the subject again. He looked away from Alistair, his golden hair glinting in the coastal sun. “I think there will be much support from these hearty folk. There are many builders and craftsmen here, and a fair few of them might be convinced to come to Denerim for a fee. People are not eager to be here, not with the town half-empty.”

Alistair nodded, obviously thinking as he looked around. They were expected to take a tour of the city, which almost reminded him of the Dalish Camp in the Brecillian Forest. Not in the way that the city resembled the camp, but it felt like a place where they what used whatever resources came from their surroundings carefully, harmoniously. They were on the edge of forest and sea, between the two places, dark green and wild contrasted with stormy blue water reflected into the wide sky on either side of the city. 

Wood was obviously the main resource in homebuilding, though there was stone all around them. There were dwarven structures all over the city, in varying states of dilapidation. Many buildings weren’t exactly dwarven, but had the same look - it was clear that the population of the city had benefited from their years of cooperation with the subterranean dwellers in more than just trade.

There was really only one place in the whole of the city that was fit to host a king, since it had before. The former teyrn’s estate had a suite that had been especially made for King Maric, and used by King Cailan after him. Alistair disliked the idea of staying there, but realized the necessity, not just because of the adequate accommodation, but also in the message it would display. Gwaren had a new leader, as did Ferelden. 

He attracted a crowd before he got to the pub, but that was where Alistair decided to sit and talk to the people. It made him feel less like an intruder to sit in a pub and talk, even if it didn’t befit his new royal status. When he sat, a tankard of ale was passed to him without comment or request for coin. Alistair drank it and sat there, at a loss for what to say.

Zevran took up his slack. He began asking people if there were informal issues they wanted to tell the king about, things that didn’t need arbitration or require more knowledge. What would they ask of the crown, if they could say anything.

No one spoke for a moment, then someone said, “There’s not even half of the people that was here before the Blight. Loghain didn’t even bother to come back here and we were left in the lurch.”

Alistair nodded, but was unsure what to say. Luckily he was saved when another voice continued. 

“Can’t be the workhorse that brings Denerim back without more people. If you need our resources, we’ll need more people to work them.”

“What would bring people back?” Zevran asked, and several people spoke at once. The answer was almost the same - either money, incentives for moving to Gwaren, or ships to bring back the refugees struggling in places like the Free Marches.

“We can bring the people back.” Alistair said. “I can send ships to Kirkwall, to Ostwick, to wherever Fereldans went when they were fleeing the Blight.”

“That won’t make them all come back.” said a grumpy looking man. Voices around him agreed.

“No, I know that. But at least this way some of them might come home, if offered the chance. They got there on their own, but I doubt many have the coin to get back if I don’t send for them.” Alistair said and was surprised to hear murmuring of agreement after he spoke.

“It won’t be an easy task, Your Majesty.” Zevran said.

Alistair turned, half answering Zevran and half speaking to the crowd. “I am their King. I have to try. They need to know that the Blight was defeated by the Hero of Ferelden, that she works still to keep the land safe. That now we rebuild and recover what we lost - and that includes people. Any Ferelden wishing to come back is always welcome on our shores, by the word of the the King.”

A cheer followed this pronouncement, loud enough to drown out the mutterings of the detractors. There would always be those that disagreed, that saw and treated him like a pale copy of Cailan or Maric, but Alistair was learning to deal with that. These people needed hope, and he knew how to give them that. He’d learned it from Hilde during the Blight, watching her gather and rally the most unlikely army he’d ever seen. At the end of each day, she’d still taken time to give him personally something, whether it was just the comfort her of at his side, or reassurance that they would win this day. He could do that for others, he had to, as their king.

Maker, he missed Hilde. For a moment the feeling made his triumphant smile flicker, made his chest feel hollow beneath the heavy armor he wore, but it passed.

“That was well said, King Alistair. Perhaps that is enough for our first day here. We should get you settled.” Zevran said.

“Yes, I guess I should stop delaying the inevitable and go on to Loghain’s estate.”

“I assure you, it was probably much different when inhabited by the last lord. Now, it is just a place to stay, though more comfortable than our camps during the Blight.”

It was the first time Zevran had mentioned the Blight, but Alistair was reassured by the almost casual way he’d managed to talk about it. Perhaps that anger was abating. Alistair was surprised to find that he hoped so, that he wanted to be friends with Zevran.

The thought was left behind as they made their way to the estate where they would stay, Loghain’s former home. For all he’d heard, the man had hardly even been in Gwaren in the last twenty years, leaving the running of the estate and most of the teyrnir to his servants and landholders. Alistair was relieved to find that the place held little of the feeling of its former occupant, even though the wyvern crest still hung on the walls.

“Welcome, King Alistair.” said a heavily accented voice. It was almost certainly Nevarran, and he wondered what had brought this man so far from home.

Alistair was going to turn to voice his thanks when a voice rose from somewhere deeper in the house. Someone was cursing the air blue, worked up into a state by Maker knows what.

“I got all this fucking work to do, and no fucking other maids to help with the King of Ferelden arriving today. There’s not a soul in Gwaren willing to do fucking maids work now, and I’ve got me baby at home to take care of to boot.” She went on, but another muffled voice spoke over hers and Alistair could no longer hear clearly.

“I am so sorry, Your Majesty.” the butler that had spoken before began, but Alistair held up a hand. He wanted to meet this overworked woman, to reassure her. Something about the way she sounded reminded him of Goldanna. Weary, overworked and a little tart, but only because she’d once been good hearted and hurt.

When he got down to the kitchen, he could hear her again. She wasn’t really angry he decided, just frustrated. Alistair pushed open the door, Zevran and the butler right behind him and then smiled on the scene he saw. It was just one housemaid, the cook and a few scullions that probably belonged to one of the staff. The cook looked up first, then bent into a dusty bow, a cloud of flour rising around her.

“Maker, you look just like the fucking coins.” the salty maid said as she bent into a hasty bow, and Alistair laughed. All of the sovereign coins minted in Ferelden in the past five years bore the likeness of either King Cailan or Queen Anora. He hoped she wasn’t referring to the Anora coins.

“Please rise. Tell me what’s wrong, we could hear you out in the entrance hall.” He said, and sat down at the long prep table in the kitchen. He was a small boy again, sitting in the kitchen of Redcliffe Castle, begging for something sweet. The cook even reminded him of the one he remembered from boyhood, though he decided that big arms and a coating of flour were probably common to many cooks.

“Well I didn’t mean nothing by it.” the maid said, bashful under his attention. “But we’re in a bad way here in Gwaren.”

“Flora!” the butler warned, but Alistair held up his hand again. 

“Go on. I’m here to help. I can’t help if no one tells me the truth.” Alistair said, and smiled again at the chamber maid.

She gave him a shaky smile back, and one of the scullions ran up to her side and hugged her leg. “You know, I think you really mean that.” Flora said.

King Alistair and his men ate their dinner in the kitchens that night, and not even Zevran tried to make him leave. Zevran was no subject of Alistair’s but he was proud of him. 

#

There was much to do in the capital, especially with Alistair and Hilde gone. Anora was grateful for the presence of Eamon, even though he was there for his own reasons, was at least working with her to secure aid for Ferelden. Much of her time was spent in negotiations, or drafting letters to all the leaders she might call on to help them. Her ambassadors were very needed during these times, and there were space for a few more, but no gold to pay them. She wondered briefly if she could get away with paying in good will and favors, but decided that it would be too unseemly, even for an near-impoverished head of state like herself.

Ferelden was nearly broke before the civil war, and the Blight had not made things better. At least Hilde was able to aid Highever in bringing in their trade - it was one of the few places sending money in taxes still and not demanding aid from the crown. The Warden’s efforts were documented by Teyrn Cousland in his report, and he sent a glowing thanks for lending him Hilde. Fergus was always kind, Anora remembered, and hoped that his own personal losses didn’t change that.

Matters of money took up most of Anora’s time, though she did make pains to be seen among the people. She took to rising earlier so that she could make trips through different areas, meeting people and going to the Chantry. It was important for her to be seen supporting the Chantry in these times of strife and to inspire her people to do the same. The Chantry for foremost on her list of places to rebuild, and they were already receiving much of the early aid. Help the Chantry, and they’d help more people more quickly and effectively than she could from the palace. They knew what was needed in aid by working with the citizens, whereas Anora could only guess from reading reports.

There were other matters to attend besides money and planning. The day after Alistair departed, she awarded medals of valor and distinguishment to many of her knights, soldiers that fought in the Battle of Denerim with her leave and had come back to her service. There had been two full days sitting in judgement, because without an arl in Denerim, many petty matters of dispute were thrust upon her. Her own nobility was in upheaval, and she was still trying to sort out which of them were still alive, save for the Guerrins and Fergus Cousland. An Antivan attache arrived with a few artists in tow, disembarking at the docks from a royal barque bearing the standard of the Queen of Antiva.

The request had come across her desk just before the end of the Blight, of foreign artists wanting to visit and capture the ‘depths of the destruction’ left in the wake of the darkspawn. She agreed only because it was seen as diplomatic, quite frankly she was sure that more than a few Fereldan artists had escaped the Blight and could document it in their own way, but by allowing the Antivan group, she didn’t have to let in the Orlesians that had also petitioned to come visit for the same reason. No need to just give bards the run of the palace in the name of art. Antivan spies she could handle much more easily.

Anora was so busy, that each night she could no longer properly think as she fell into the bed. Alistair had shown a willingness to learn to govern, to learn. Perhaps when he came back, they would both shoulder the burden a little more equitably than she had with Cailan. There were so many irons in the fire, she nearly forgot which was hot when by the time she got back to them. It wasn’t a true forgetfulness, but a small failing of her overworked mind. It was a good thing that she had the staff she did - well-trained and capable to help her along, or Anora feared that Ferelden might just be lost. 

She was between meetings on a cloudy afternoon when Erlina came to find her, trailed by a strange young man with a steady, unblinking stare. He was quiet, and Anora thought that despite his disconcerting gaze, he was quite beautiful. Alas, the lifelessness of his eyes and tone rendered him handsome in abstract way that things are when they are best viewed from afar.

“Your Majesty, may I present to you Markus from the Circle of Magi in Cumberland. He is a tranquil, and here to aid the Hero of Ferelden in her research.” Erlina said.

After her father left, Anora had thought long about how best to keep and eye on Hilde. She did not want to employ a bard, as the warden had traveled with one before and would become suspicious. There were other ways to keep track of people, and Anora didn’t want her to get defensive about being watched. It was Erlina that had come up with the solution - a tranquil assistant for the Hero of Ferelden. The tranquil were completely dedicated and so far as Anora had been told, had amazing focus when set to a task. Hilde would find her new assistant helpful at least, and hopefully more than that.

It was easy enough to find one willing to come to Ferelden. The Circle of Magi here was far too damaged to send one of their own, and besides, Anora did not want it to be anyone that Hilde might already know. She skipped over the Free Marches, especially Kirkwall since their Knight-Commander was so strict and might not even accede to a queen’s request. Cumberland had been willing to offer what help their Circle could, and even sending her someone trained to help with botany and alchemy. Those traits would be useful to Hilde, and the unflinching honesty of the tranquil would be useful to her in keeping track of the warden.

“Welcome, Markus of the Cumberland Circle. I am Queen Anora of Ferelden.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Markus said in a toneless voice. “I am here to assist in any way I can.”

“Erlina, will you get Markus settled and then show him to the greenhouse the Hero of Ferelden keeps. She is in Highever at the moment, but will return in a few weeks. I think she will be glad to find you acquainted with her work when she gets back.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” The tranquil said. Anora bit her lip, feeling sorry for him. What must it be like to have no emotions? It seemed a sad way to live life. If it were her choice, she might have chosen death, but then again, she had no idea what having magical powers was like.

“Welcome to Ferelden, Markus. I hope you are comfortable here.” Anora said. “Please let Erlina know if there is anything you require as you begin your work.”

He inclined his head at her once more before Erlina lead him from the room. When he left, Anora breathed a sigh of relief. She hoped that this would work out.


	5. Chapter 5

The citizenry of Gwaren was growing warmer towards Alistair, as word of his willingness to listen, and the letters the flew by raven back to Denerim. His promises still meant nothing to some, but others clung to their faith in him to restore some of what had been lost. Their distrust and hope was tiring, but no place in Ferelden was untouched by the Blight, and he had to do his best for everyone.

“You are looking unusually tired today, King Alistair.” Zevran told him. “Would you like to rest instead of undertaking more business today? I am sure that the people would understand.”

He’d dreamed of Hilde the night before, of a darkspawn that took her away underground as he watched. She’d screamed for him to kill her, but he’d no bow or arrow and a thrown sword would have fallen short. His feet had been stuck to the ground, and all he could do was watch in horror. A bird that looked like the crow Morrigan favored when she shapeshifted had landed near him and he yelled for help, then turned into Hilde in a burst of purple flame. She’d kissed him and they were back in their tent, during the Blight and she said he was having a nightmare. When he reached out to kiss her again, she’d vanished and he’d woken up.

“No, no. I’ll be fine. Besides, I can sleep on the way back to Denerim. It’s about all I can do on the ship.” Alistair shook off the remnants of the dream as best he could. It was always the strange ones that lingered so vividly. He wished they wouldn’t.

“I will be accompanying you and make sure that is so.” Zevran told him, giving Alistair a determined smile.

“I’m counting on it.” Alistair said, and then Zevran moved on, telling him his schedule for the day. 

Alistair was grateful for the company. Just a few months ago he was still wary of Zevran, wondering if the Crow was going to kill them all in their sleep, but now he knew better. There were precious few people that knew him as anyone before he’d become King Alistair, bastard son of Maric, and he appreciated Zevran more than he had before. Maker, he might even appreciate Morrigan and her comments now, knowing that they came from a place of just disliking him for himself and not disliking him because he was King of Ferelden.

Those thoughts made him maudlin and Alistair had enough of that in Denerim. He thought it might be easier when he didn’t have to see Hilde’s face all the time or feel the pressure of his new marriage, but even here with just Zevran, he could feel her presence. It was is Zevran was obvious in her not mentioning Hilde as a way of showing how big her absence was, but Alistair decided that thought was just him being strange. Zev wasn’t mentioning her because he was being kind, in his own way.

Mostly the avoidance worked for him. They went about their daily business with the townsfolk, meeting people, finding out what they would need from the tradespeople and occasionally getting into drinking contests to pure that he was really the ‘son of that old drunk bastard Maric’. That last one, a grizzled old woman with one eye, had been particularly hard to drink under the table. It was as if she’d spent all the time in her eighty years preparing for a drinking contest. No matter, it had gained him some favor with the locals, and had only cost a little pride and a hangover.

The longer he stayed, the more he did with people - organizing shipment schedules, seeing their work, figuring out which of the seeds and dirt the Circle of Magi wanted for their studies - it all helped to get the people of Gwaren to trust him. Alistair was always under Zevran’s watchful eye, as well as his retinue of guards, but he still did as much as he could himself. The requests he made carried more weight when he went to look people in the eye when he made them. His questions went down better if he asked them himself, unafraid to show his ignorance and willing to defer to those with more knowledge. 

He went from outsider to king with some work, someone who had earned their respect by showing that he was willing to work and not just send servants out to do things for him. He had to admit that he knew this quality was why they had been so loyal to Loghain, and that thought sat ill with him, that he might be mimicking the man his so disliked in any way, so he didn’t think about it, and the villagers didn’t mention their old teyrn too often.

It went well, if quickly. He hadn’t had much time there, not nearly as much as Anora would spend in Redcliffe or Hilde in Highever. Being around Zevran made him think of Hilde more, they way they had been. He sometimes felt as if they were back at camp waiting for the others to come back, covered in blood and mud and dust. Alistair had to remind himself that he wasn’t saving room in his bed for Hilde and Bruno. Maker preserve him, he even missed her dog.

Alistair and his guard were collecting pine cones when Hilde finally came up, because Zevran slipped and mentioned that his finds were going straight to her. Alistair wasn’t sure it was an honest mistake, but Zevran gave him a wide-eyed look when he asked.

“You’ve been in contact with her then, talking about pine cones and seeds and the like?” Alistair asked, trying and failing to sound casual.

“More than that. She is very sad, very lonely in Denerim. I think that I may come back for a time, if I am able to do so without putting either of you into too much danger.” Zevran said.

“So you’re in her confidence now?”

Zevran turned, his satchel of pine cone shaking as he did. “Do not worry yourself, my dear king. There is no room for Zevran in her heart or bed, and I am not fool enough to interfere. She is my friend however, and I hate to see her suffer, as I do you.”

He went silent and Alistair waited, but nothing else came. “That’s it then, no telling me to listen to my heart or any of that?”

Zevran laughed. “Why should I tell you that? You’re doing what you think is right, no matter how much it hurts. Nothing I could say would sway your sense of righteousness. So no, nothing like that from me.”

“Would you forgive her, if you were me?”

“Did I not offer Talisen mercy when he came after me? I do not have so many friends as a king, so I do not like to throw them away. But I cannot tell you how to feel.”

“That’s wiser than I expected from you.” Alistair said.

“That’s because you never bothered to listen to me before. I am very wise, it suits my worldly, urbane style. My wisdom is one of my best hidden assets.” Zevran said. Alistair still couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not, but decided he was.

“Of course it is. You’ll be named adviser to the court soon enough.” Alistair quipped and Zevran gave him a smug smile.

“It’s about time, my king.” 

He would miss Zevran when their short time in Gwaren came to an end, but he was eager to get back to Denerim. Zev would move on after he stopped in Denerim. The first of the supply ships with lumber and a food should be sailing towards the city and he wanted to be there not long after it docked. He needed to get back and see it rebuilt, since he hadn’t been the one to save it. He had to do it for himself, and for his people. That felt so odd to think, his people, literally the people he led, the Ferelden people, Fereldans that he was king of. Whatever he called them, they were all under his protection, and he could only do his best, try to keep them alive now when things were even more unsettled than they were during the Blight and interregnum.

It boggled him that it was Hilde and not that awesome responsibility that kept him up at night, but he chalked it up to never being a man that thought without consulting his heart. That sounded better in his mind than ‘sentimental fool’.

#

The time in Highever went quickly for Hilde. She met with the nobles in the city, continued her own agricultural research and helped strengthen Teyrn Cousland’s guards and recruit more. The people needed to know how to fight darkspawn stragglers, and the economy of the whole country needed the city to be as peaceful and prosperous as it could be, so Hilde spent long days working towards that outcome. It was fulfilling, not in the way she imagined the work in Denerim or Redcliffe to be, rebuilding walls and taking back what had not been destroyed, but it was still essential. It would be hard to leave and go back to the destruction and death in Denerim. The Chantry bells would toll for months mourning the dead of the city. They did after Ostagar.

At first Hilde had not thought much about Fergus Cousland, other than to pity the man. As she worked with him, as he settled into familiarity with her and became more himself, she grew to like him. He had lost much and she doubted that he would ever fully shake the aura of sadness that clung to him, but that was the way with people who sustained so many losses. It was the way she’d felt after she’d visited the Circle of Magi and saw the destruction for herself. The loss of life still floored her, mages and templar alike, people she’d known and loved and disliked and wanted, all lights snuffed out too soon. People that were part of her whole life gone, rows of empty beds where there once been too many bodies and not enough room. That kind of loss made one hollow and empty for a while, until it could become something manageable but it never really left. Fergus Cousland was still getting there.

His large castle had once been filled with his family, a mother, father and brother, a wife and son, and they were all no more. Guards he’d known since childhood, the first maid he’d ever kissed, the nanny that had swaddled him, the Chantry mother that sung the Chant for him right before he left for Ostagar - they too were gone and he felt their loss as keenly as his family.

Hilde understood, empathized and liked Fergus. He wasn’t a sad man by nature, and she could see it peeking out from under his grief. A loud hearty laugh followed her bawdiest jokes, and he told ones to match her own. He was smart and fair in his doings, obviously well-suited to his rank, though he lacked the common touch. It was clear that he’d been born into nobility, but that didn’t stop him from being gregarious and likable. Despite all that he liked to talk, he listened as well, and drew her out when she was reticent to talk about her research and the Blight. In inches, he became her friend, in even more tiny steps, a confidant. She would miss his company greatly when she went back to the capital.

With a tankard of ale in her hand as she sat in the teyrn’s private study, she mused on their friendship. Neither had thought to be friends at first, though Hilde had been more hopeful than Fergus. His noble life afforded him few opportunities to make new friends in truth, though he had acquaintances aplenty. She was the first person he’d met with status and no agenda other than what she said, and it took him time to learn to take her at her word. It was still a strange experience for him, but when he thought of her as less a royal emissary and more of a soldier, it gave him better perspective. There were other things he liked about her, but that was obvious from their earlier kiss. Neither had brought it up since it happened, but neither wanted her to leave without mentioning it again.

“Will you leave in the morning?” Fergus asked, looking at her over his own mug of ale.

“I think so. Denerim will still need my help and I have much research and plant matter to bring back.” she laughed softly, and said “I do love playing in the dirt. But I am sure that either the king or queen will be interested in all that I’ve learned.”

“It has been good having you here. I did not think I needed assistance, but it was welcome. Being teyrn is much more difficult than my father made it look, but then again, he had Mother.” Fergus said.

“I imagine so, especially after a war, but you seem to have it well in hand now. Highever will prosper, I am sure of it, and I will miss it greatly.”

“So it’s off to Denerim?”

Hilde drank down the last of her ale and looked into the fire. “For a time. I want to go back to the Circle and check in there as well. The Wardens will have their own orders too, I am sure of it, but I cannot guess what they will be. Until then, I will be committed to Ferelden.”

“Hilde, I don’t want you to leave thinking that I forgot about that kiss.” Fergus started, but she stopped him.

“If you want, I will spend the night with you tonight. If not, we shall sit here in your study and drink to friendship and not spend another moment being awkward.” She couldn’t stand awkwardness, especially considering she was about to walk right back into a whole mess of it between Alistair and Anora. Oh, Alistair. Just thinking of him made her so unsure, so sad an angry and anxious when she hadn’t felt that way in weeks. She’d enjoyed the reprieve in Highever.

“Do you desire me?” he asked, voice low and husky and vulnerable.

“Of course.” Hilde replied, shocked that he would need ask.

He must have been reassured by her tone or the quickness with which she answered, because he held out one hand to her and she let him pull her from her seat. They weren’t staying in the study.

Fergus Cousland was not a man who grieved with sobs against her breast, but it was apparent that he did mourn, even in this act of joy. It would be hard for him, she knew, to go on after losing both wife and son. Though his family died at the beginning of the Blight, he had not found out until the end. He was still newly widowed in his mind. She could feel it in his touch once she settled into his bed and wondered if he might refuse her. Instead he held her close and spoke into Hilde’s ear, soft voice full of warning and not seduction.

“There hasn’t been anyone since, but I want to be with you tonight.” he said, his voice a rich tapestry of want and pain mingled together. It was honest, raw and mirrored her own feelings. True, she had not sent her love to the pyre, but the break had taken something from her and that loss felt akin to his own.

She looked into his eyes and stroked his hair, unsure how to respond to the desperation she saw there. He needed this, but not for sole physical release - she would be a balm to him, if she could. An answer eluded her for a moment, but it came to her. It would be best served with a kiss, she realized, so she brought her mouth to his and placed her lips upon him, soothing and scalding all at once. Fergus answered with fervor, kissing her back with the whole of his body. He pressed against her, mouth sealed tight to Hilde, arms wrapped around her soft frame, the two of them clinging to each other.

It took time for their embrace to gather heat. They were all comfort at first, kisses that felt like practice, bodies that yearned for touch so long denied that they didn’t want to let go. It was almost like they were huddling for warmth, though the long summer days were hot and sticky and night a relief. The sunset had just started to make color burn through the windows, bringing that relieving breeze with it, though Hilde hardly cared. When she slid her tongue into his mouth at long last, they were laying on the bed together embracing in a way that was not terribly romantic, but could turn into something more. 

She wanted more, as did Fergus, though he’d lost some of his nerve once they left the study. It was up to Hilde to lead, so she did. With her kiss she let him taste her tongue - to savor the slow movement of it in his mouth, the feeling of it teasing his own - and the heat their kiss generated reignited his own. She pressed up against him, breasts against his chest, legs twining with his, her hips drawn in towards his.

After that, it was easy. Fergus was emboldened by her, their shared heat and closeness and his own need. Hilde watched the lust overcome the flicker of guilt in his eyes, and she was glad. She let her own eyes close, enjoying the sensation of his lips skimming down the column of her neck, kissing the hollow of her collarbone, then making the trip back up her skin, hampered from going further by her dinner clothes. 

It didn’t matter right then, there was all night to remove their clothes. Every brush of the fabric against her hot skin felt delicious; they were just warming up. No longer restrained, Fergus took what Hilde offered and upped the bet, their grasping hands were everywhere, ranging, exploring. It had been a good while since she’d shared intimacy with anyone, and she set upon enjoying herself and learning what Fergus liked.

She kissed where his jaw met neck and felt his pulse, steady and a little quickened under her tongue. Hilde kept on kissing, pressing her soft lips to different parts of him, letting her dinner gown ride above her knees as they tussled. He gasped when she pressed a row of biting kisses along his jaw, and finally, she got a sense of him. There was no roughness in him, his kisses and hands were all skilled and gentle, but he wouldn’t mind a bite mark or two on him. That was good; neither did she. When Fergus licked at a stiffened nipple through the silk of her dress, she decided it was time to discard it.

The purple coils of her carefully kept hair had been unbound by Fergus as they lay together, that man did have quite he deft set of hands, and they surprised her by cascading over her shoulders when she stood. Fergus sat up on the bed to watch her, hands poised over his own buttons but still. His attention was on her, and she didn’t want to disappoint. Hilde let the dinner dress fall at once, leaving in just her corset and smallclothes. His eyes widened, then narrowed as he studied her and she let him take the time for some scrutiny, then beckoned him to her. The corset wouldn’t remove itself.

He came to her, and settled on bended knees to take off her smallclothes first. Kiss after hot, wet kiss were dropped up the line of her leg, the inside of her thighs until he reached the cloth and licked. The heat of his mouth and tongue added to her own wetness, indirect and light, making her shudder. Fergus repeated his movement again, and once more just to feel her tremble. Then he hooked thumbs into the sides of the cloth and pulled them down. A large hand caressed up her leg again, following the same path as his earlier kisses, but culminating in grasping a handful of her bottom. She laughed and swatted at him, but Fergus had pulled away, rising to stand.

Fergus stood behind her, and bent to breathe featherlight kisses over the side of her neck. For a moment Hilde thought he would try to unlace her corset, but he apparently knew better. A penknife from his desk made short work of the thing, and it fell to the floor still molded to the shape of her body. His soft mouth kissed her once more, where her neck and spine met. A lovers kiss, and she appreciated his skill and friendship. She needed a lover tonight and a friend later. It would be his friendship that would keep her from regretting this. Hilde was no longer as free with her affections as she’d been in the Circle, before Alistair.

She turned in his embrace, her breasts against the soft fabric of his shirt, his chest hard beneath it. Pressed naked up against him, she finally had a response for his earlier confession. “I want you, more than you know. As many times as you’ll have me tonight.”

“And perhaps once in the morning?” Fergus asked, hands skimming over her bare back as he did.

Hilde chuckled. “If you’re very, very good tonight.”

His laugh was softer, and his hands went to his clothes again. They shook ever so slightly, and Hilde pretended not to notice, but took up disrobing him after he managed the first button on his shirt. When she got to his trousers, she gave his erection a few quick, careful strokes before disrobing him completely. 

Then it went so quickly she was only aware of it in flashes - him lifting her up and settling her back onto the bed, the two of them fully naked and flush, unsure where to start like gluttons at a buffet. His mouth closed around her hardened nipples, her hands wrapped around the length of him, amidst a flurry of kisses and licks placed all over each body. When Fergus came to part her thighs with his head, Hilde needed little more than a few passes with skilled tongue and fingers before she climaxed in heated waves that made her clench fistfuls of his hair. 

When she guided him inside of her, they were near frantic. She enveloped him in her intense, vibrant wet heat, and he gave himself over to sensation. It wasn’t prolonged, but more fervent for it, hard thrusts that shook the bed, and made sweat bead on his chest, panting that was just shy of a wheeze, calling her name, his wife’s, and the Maker. Hilde closed her eyes and wrapped her legs as tight as she could around his waist, letting instinct dictate her responses until she felt Fergus stiffen with release. 

He came down in stages, and as he did, the apologies started. Hilde quieted them with kisses, eased his worried looks with her smiles. She thought that might make the whole of their night together, but Fergus surprised her by lazily licking at her breasts after he recovered, then kissing them intently, then suckling them as his hand worked between her legs. Another climax, this one softer, the intense edge of anticipation gone and leaving pleasant languour int its place. She felt him take his hand away and she opened her eyes to see him covering himself in her wetness, working himself back to hardness. Hilde shut her eyes again and smiled.

Fergus Cousland was no Grey Warden, but he had admirable stamina indeed. He was pacing himself, and their night wasn’t over, not until they were both sated and exhausted. With the young night still blossoming into true darkness outside the window, they had hours to go.

In the morning she lay there with him, pale sunlight washing over his body. Had he been Alistair, he would have woken up in a ready state to take her again, but she doubted that Fergus would. She looked at him for a moment, noting a long scar on his arm, the lines of hard muscle down his back and pressed a kiss to the closest shoulder. He didn’t stir until she drew away and his hand caught her. Hilde let herself be pulled onto his chest.

“Hilde. You weren’t a dream.” he said huskily.

“No, I am not, but that means neither were you.”

Fergus laughed softly, and kissed the top of her head. She burrowed further into his warmth. If she was any judge, the teyrn would not have trouble finding another wife once he wanted to take one.

“Thank you. I will remember you always as you were in my bed. Kind, beautiful and perfect.” he told her.

“You were…” she trailed off, not wanting say ‘wonderful’ though he had been. She felt like that would speak only to his performance, when there had been so much more than the merely physical between them. It had been more than that, cathatic in the way it erased her lonliness and doubts, fantastic in the way her whole body still tingled from his touch. “I will never forget this.” she said.

There was little more to be said between them, not about the night before. She hoped the memories would hold him in good stead, because she had no plans to return to Highever. Those thoughts made her sad, so she closed her eyes against them. There was no reason to be sad this morning, even if she was leaving. There was still Fergus and his bed and admirable arms before that time came, and Hilde intended to enjoy them while she could.

The teyrn apparently had the same idea, and intended to make good on his question from the night before. He wanted to have her again that morning, no matter what her earlier thoughts had been on the matter. She welcomed him in a slow, languid coupling that made them late for breakfast, and everything else following it. When she finally made her way to the gates of Castle Cousland, her dog was waiting and met them with an accusatory bark.

“Yes, I know Bruno. I am sorry I am late.” Hilde said, bending to let the dog greet her. The staff stood around them, lined up to see her off. 

Her dog barked again, this time a with a small growl at the end. Pointedly, he went over to Fergus and circled him, sniffing before coming back to her.

“Don’t be nosy.” Hilde chided, but the dog didn’t listen.

Bruno went back to Fergus and tugged at his hand until he followed, a bemused expression on his face. The dog then pulled Hilde closer to Fergus, and stood between the two of them. Fergus gave a weak laugh. 

Never one to abide awkwardness, not even that created by her own dog, Hilde smiled over at Fergus. Then she stood on tip toe, kissed his cheek and murmured her goodbye in front of everyone. They would all know anyway, she reasoned, and there was no reason to hide. The teyrn blushed a fantastic shade of red, then squeezed her hand once and let it go. It was time to go.


	6. Chapter 6

Denerim looked much the same from the docks when Alistair returned from Gwaren, but he could feel a change in the air. The people had changed; they seemed to sense the rebuilding that was to come. Alistair hadn’t expected much change to take place in the few weeks he was gone, at least not visibly. The promise in the air though, it infected him and got into his mind. There were people to take care of first before buildings could be erected, and they were already hopeful just because of a few ships from Gwaren. He would confer with Anora and see what progress had been made. He doubted she’d been idle in his absence, and her strength lay in the planning and arranging.

The lumber was coming in steadily from Gwaren and food supplies and trade goods from Highever. Ferelden was in poor shape, but he hoped with proper coordination, they might mitigate the need to rely for too long on other nations. Foreign ships were bringing in aid, the first trickle of anything was from the Free Marches, along with a boatload of Fereldans that decided ahead of his edict in Gwaren that they wanted to come home. He wasn’t sure what they were returning to, but they were more than welcome. So many people fled; he’d heard the stories, far too many tales of fear and flight during his trip.

The palace was bustling when Alistair returned. It was here where Alistair could see the difference that he could feel a renewed sense of purpose rippling through the city when he’d landed at the dock. He hadn’t realized that even in the palace there had been an air of depression, a tension that came from hopelessness and weary fatigue. That hadn’t been completely banished, but it was much less noticeable. Working gave people hope, and there was definitely work going on in Denerim.

“Welcome home, King Alistair.”

That was the first time someone had welcomed him ‘home’ instead of ‘back’. Alistair mumbled a thank you in the direction of the words, but didn’t see who uttered them. Home. He hadn’t thought of Denerim as home, not ever, and still not now, if he was honest with himself. Home was family - not this, whatever it was he had here. Before the Landsmeet, he wouldn’t have hesitated to say that ‘home’ was with Hilde. That thought depressed him too much to continue, so he lifted his head up and squared his shoulders as he walked through the halls to his private rooms.

It was only after a meal, bathing and a nap that he saw Anora. By then several of his own advisers had come to fill him in on the recovery progress. His assumption had been right - Anora had busied herself during his absence by arranging and overseeing several projects, with the recovery of the Denerim Chantry foremost on the list. As luck would have it, the building hadn’t taken that much damage from the darkspawn. There were more places far worse off in the city. Anora had been set on reinforcing the Chantry however. She’d argued that people needed the comfort of the Chant and the services the Chantry provided now more than ever. He’d agreed, though reluctantly at the time.

It was funny how it hadn’t been that long ago, if one bothered to consider the amount of time that had passed, but it felt like so long ago. Now, Alistair appreciated Anora’s dedication to preserving what could be saved, even if he didn’t always agree with it at the time. Gwaren had shown him, there was nothing that was everlasting, but there was honor in trying to save what one could. Anora had grown up there in part, and he could see how it had informed her character. Hard work, loyalty, honesty, he’d seen all of those traits etched into the faces in Gwaren, and in the mantle of his queen.

Though Alistair had never envisioned himself marrying, as far as wives went, Anora had to be among one of the best. He’d thought about that as he’d labored in Gwaren, as he’d taken meals in the same walls that had sheltered her father, and tried not to drown in his own sense of righteous rage. Alistair didn’t consider himself a very wise man, but he tried to learn his lessons only once. There would never be any love lost between him and Loghain, but he could do right by Anora, and he would ask before he went any further with his good intentions, making sure that they lined up with her wants.

“Alistair, it is good to see you well again. Your trip sounded very successful.” Anora said, greeting him with as she swept into the room where he waited for her. Behind her, a servant bustled in and set down a tea service, then exited soundlessly.

“Have you been brought up to date with what’s been happening here?” Anora asked, taking up her teacup, the delicate porcelain handle twining through her ivory fingers.

“I thought I’d hear it from you.”

“Very well.” Anora said, and launched into a brief account of her business since he’d left. So much in so little time! After that she inquired about him, delving more deeply into the details of his trip. Were the people of Gwaren recovering well? Did he really want to send ships to the Free Marches to try and bring some of their displaced populace home?

“It is a good idea.” she conceded, speaking about the ships. There were too few people in Ferelden these days, too many lost to darkspawn, war and treachery.

“There is one more thing,” he started, “but it isn’t about Ferelden.”

“Oh?” Anora asked, distracted. Her mind was elsewhere.

“I thought we might court.” Alistair said, and Anora laughed, her attention snapping back to him in an instant. He realized that she wasn’t laughing at him, but that it was incredulous laughter. As a young girl she was promised to Cailan, her marriage arranged. This would be as foreign to her as it was to him.

“Well, I’ve never been courted. It can’t hurt. Even if we don’t want to be together, we might wind up friends. Cailan and I were friends, despite what you must think of us.” she said.

“I don’t presume anything, and I didn’t know King Cailan. I don’t know you, but I want to.” he said.

“What of Hilde? Do you intend to repair your relationship with her?”

Alistair rubbed his neck, unsure what to say. He still loved Hilde, there was nothing in him that could deny it. Part of him would probably always love her, even if he tried to let it all go. Being around Zevran in Gwaren had made him miss her even more. It ran so deep within him that he half expected that he would be down in the Deep Roads on his Calling after all the years had passed, and his last thoughts would be of her. Alistair would always love Hilde, even when he was burning with anger at her. But when he was back in Denerim, with Anora, whom he to try to establish some kind of relationship with for a number of reasons.

“I don’t know yet. I just wanted to talk about you and I.”

“That’s only one facet of the conversation. Your heart belongs to Hilde, and you must deal with that. But I shouldn’t pressure you about it, it will just confuse you. Let’s you and I come to our arrangement.” Anora said.

“It’s not an arrangement, not like that. Well, it sort of was, because we had an arranged marriage but I just think that we should get to know each other.”

“I would like that.” Anora said. There was a small stutter in her voice, uncertainty and vulnerability in that slight break between syllables. But she nodded at Alistair and smiled, confirming her words.

He kissed her then, the first kiss between the two of them. She’d kissed his cheek before, on their wedding night and then again before he left Denerim, but that wasn’t like this. Alistair had never initiated before, for fear that Anora wouldn’t welcome his kiss. There was much expectation that she bend to him, and he didn’t want to be like that in any relationship. Eamon had tried once to pressure him about it and Alistair had found great pleasure in using his kingly status to shut him down.

There was no unwillingness in this kiss. They were both unsure, and it was short but promising in its intent. For her part Anora was surprised by Alistair’s light touch and skill, the gentle pressure of his lips on hers until they parted. He rather liked being close to her, it was like dancing, but with less thinking and far more pleasant.

The kiss had brought out a becoming flush on Anora’s cheeks, making her look almost like a milkmaid and not a queen. It struck him how beautiful she was, beneath all the finery and all the other facades. If this had been another life, she might have been the beauty of a village and he the stalwart knight that tried his hand at wooing her. But here she was his queen, and they were still somewhere between strangers and friends, with just the one kiss between them. It was lucky that Erlina knocked on the door just after they’d parted, or Alistair might have been tempted to kiss Anora again.

Later that day Alistair thought about her while he sat in some boring meeting with his advisers. It wasn’t the first time he’d thought of Anora, but perhaps the first time he’d done so with some hope. He really did want to have at least a friendship with her, if not something more. It would take a great deal of time, more than it did with Hilde, because he and Anora hadn’t chosen each other. Oh Maker, Hilde. She will be hurt when she came back to Denerim and saw him and Anora, but there was no way for her not to be hurt. As much as he disliked hurting anyone, Alistair knew that Hilde would be calm, rational and expert at hiding her feelings. He saw her do it every time they were in a room together.

“Your Majesty?” a voice to his left interrupted his thoughts and Alistair snapped back to attention.

“Sorry.” he mumbled, feeling himself go red in the face. This man worked for him, but Alistair still felt like he’d been caught by one of the sisters in the Chantry and was going to be made to go scour pots after this meeting.

“As I was saying, the alienage is requesting aid in rebuilding, whatever it was they had there before, but we can’t put elves before the rebuilding of the market. They will just have to wait.” a cool voice said, full of contempt.

“No, they won’t. All of Denerim is going to have to be rebuilt and we’re going to spend time doing it right, even the alienage.” Alistair said firmly. “The Hero of Ferelden said that the residents there helped her fight. They deserve to have their homes restored to them.” He thought about the report he’d read instead of talking to Hilde, the way Anora had asked him to speak to her father about it, but he was the one person whom Alistair wanted to see less than Hilde at that time. He’d read words on paper, when he should have fought at her side, seen it through to the end. But he hadn’t.

“As you say, King Alistair.”

As he said; yes, that sounded right. There was no changing the past, no going back for him, but now it was as he said. He was king, no longer a Warden and no longer bound to Hilde by unspoken promises. Alistair would do better as king than he had as a warden.

#

It was Queen Anora’s turn to be off, and she set out away from Denerim over land, headed towards Redcliffe. The idea had been Eamon’s, but heartily endorsed by Hilde. Whatever Hilde thought of her, and Anora truly had no idea, Anora admired how cunning and adaptable the warden was. Her transition to courtier had been seamless, her ideas sound and her willingness to work refreshing. Hilde was outwardly a little brazen, if not in words than in deeds; but Anora put that down to coming of age in a Circle of Magi, where titles mattered little and ability and being outspoken made sure one wasn’t stepped on too often.

The idea behind her trip to Redcliffe was to show a renewed accord between her and Bann Teagan after the fracas of the Landsmeet. She had the feeling the Eamon would not be arl for much longer and intended to leave his holding to his brother since his son was no longer an option. He wanted his role as advisor in Denerim more than he wanted to go back to Redcliffe.

His naked ambition almost made her stay behind, but Anora decided to trust Alistair. Whatever he played at being stupid. she knew that he truly wasn’t a dumb man. He would not still be alive if he were. Besides, Hilde was due to arrive back soon, and she was a good bulwark against any overt plotting or politicking. The court would carry on as it always had, and Eamon was at heart a pawn more than a player.

Travel through the Bannorn was hard - it was the part of the country that had always been rolling, green hills in her memories - and many spots, far too many for her liking were desecrated by the Blight. What had once been lush with life was deadened and a greyish-red color, devoid of life. Anora hadn’t seen this, hadn’t been prepared for it, even after all Hilde had told her. There was a reason she was working so hard with her seeds and dirt, and for a moment the queen almost regretted not assigning Markus to her for purely research reasons. Hilde’s work and that of the Circle mages that supported her, was much more necessary than she’d realized.

There was not one guard in Anora’s compliment that wasn’t affected by the sight of their Queen looking over the ruined landscape of the bannorn and weeping. Silent tears ran down Anora’s beautiful face in a steady flow. She wasn’t given to crying, in her mind there were few occasions that truly called for tears, but this was one of them. A landscape so completely blank frightened her. Gone were the marshy pools of rainwater, the wildflowers on the sides of the road, the huts and villages and towns and people. It made her heart ache, heavy with worry and fear that she might never see these lands come back in her lifetime.

Redcliffe was as bustling as Denerim when she arrived. The end of the Blight hadn’t seen a full on battle like the capital had, but Redcliffe had more than a few darkspawn with which to contend. She had expected some rebuilding, but Teagan seemed to be having a better time of it than she did in Denerim. Perhaps she would ask him about it. She thought that Teagan would try to mend fences with her, if only because it was the right thing to do now that the war was over, but when she finally met him, Anora found that she might have been mistaken.

Eamon may have absolved her of any wrongdoing with regards to his poisoning, but Teagan clearly had not. Or maybe it was the death of Cailan that had him stoked his righteous anger, or any of the myriad other things that had gone wrong since Ostagar. Anora would never rightly know which offense carried the most weight. It might have been the combined mass of all of them.

When her carriage came up to Castle Redcliffe, Bann Teagan was outside waiting. He dropped to one knee in front of her, but his eyes glared up defiantly.

"Your Majesty."

"Bann Teagan." She acknowledged him with cool consideration, then bade him rise. His wife wasn't with him, nor was she part of the crowd around them. They rest of the people were similarly on bended knee and rose when their lord rose. The noise started as they all came back to standing. Anora couldn't make out the words exactly, but the tone made her certain that they weren't warm welcomes. Her guards drew closer around her as they moved through the crowd into Castle Redcliffe.

She could see that Teagan had the loyalty of the crowd, even if they were Arl Eamon's subjects officially. He was the one that had been there through the hordes of dead that attacked the town, and Teagan was the one that had led them to the castle once the darkspawn moved on Redcliffe. She'd heard tales of how he'd rode around all of Redcliffe arling, warning and checking on people on horseback after Eamon was cured, sometimes just ahead of the darkspawn. He'd found the survivors of Honnleath and led them to safety. Teagan was the arl of Redcliffe, if not in title, he was in deed. With Eamon's heir a mage and the arl now happily residing in the capital to advise Alistair, it seemed a certainty.

The displaced populace of Denerim did not have the same kind of tenor as these residents. They were more respectful of her, and she thought that had more hope and less hardness. Anora wasn't wrong as a man openly snarled at her after she passed.

"They are angry," she said placidly, after she was behind the castle gate.

"Yes." Teagan replied, but didn't elaborate. He was angry too, but never rude.

He showed her to her quarters himself, and then stopped at the door.

"My wife sends her regards, but she is away in Orlais. Dinner will be served in two hours, and it grieves me to say that we are dining on a reduced menu, along with most of Redcliffe."

"I understand. Denerim too was hard hit, and the palace has made according changes. I am sure dinner will be sufficient, Bann Teagan." Anora said the words calmly, but marveled at the cheek of him.

"We aren't out of food because of the darkspawn, Your Majesty. Our supplies run low because certain soldiers, ones with gold wyverns on their shields laid waste to our field and store houses, setting them on fire when we did not fall in line during the Civil War. It will take a great deal of time to recover." Teagan said, still masking his anger, but no longer trying very hard.

Anora gasped, she couldn't help the undignified response and it escaped before she could reel it in. "Bann Teagan, surely you are mistaken..."she began, but was cut off.

"I do not. I will never forget that sight. Ask Ser Cauthrien if you do not believe me. I think it was she that rode through the fields the first time. We were at war, Queen Anora, though I had never thought that Loghain's war would be so Orlesian in the way he regarded those who disagreed with him. Then again, tyranny does not need a particular location or favor a type of fashion, it just needs people willing to lower themselves to it."

She stared at him agog, tears welling in her eyes. Father, no. How could he? But she knew from Alistair, from Hilde, from so many other nobles that this war had been brutal and divisive. Teagan was not her most ardent supporter by any means, but neither was he a liar. He would not make up grievances against her father just to wound.

Teagan took her silence for whatever answer he was seeking and left her alone in her room. She hadn't known. Maker, she might have done something to stop him if she had. No wonder they were all so mad here. Eamon poisoned by Arl Howe's order and then the fields and farms burned. They would have faced starvation over the past winter without their stores. Oh, how could she ever make this right?

There were strengths she did not have, and assuaging Teagan was one of them. Cailan would have been able to get his uncle to understand, or Hilde, so like Cailan with her affable charm and boldness, probably would have Teagan apologizing to her for questioning her integrity. Even Alistair had his own way, the earnest kindness that won people over. Anora wasn't sure what she might apply to the situation. Her own abilities, such as they were, were hidden and all she felt was guilt and despair. Without a confidante or support, this would be a long, uphill visit.

She wished Erlina were with her.


	7. Chapter 7

It was raining in Denerim when Hilde returned, and she missed the sunny cerulean skies of Highever. The city was busy even in the rain, the bell of the Chantry ringing out the hour in the distance. People working in makeshift shops, on the docks and moving around the city were all good signs, very good ones.

There would be business to attend, she’s quite sure that the nobles have managed to think up some new scheme while she was off in Highever, but after being with Fergus, it grates on her less. The Circle had given her a skewed perspective of nobility, and being with him dispelled some of the oddity of it in her eyes. Her time away had given her a break and new perspective, and she would put both to good use.

It had also given her a pack full of new seeds and soil to work with, and her greenhouse would be one of the few places where she would truly be welcome in the royal palace. Hilde was looking forward to taking up her research once again, growing and crossing plants, trying to make things more hearty and resistant or able to yield more crops. This was research Ferelden was in dire need of, and her contacts in the circle should have sent her a few messages while she was away. She would need to get back to them soon.

It was a homecoming to a place she’d never thought of as home until coming back to it, but she realized it was home nonetheless. After dropping Bruno with the kennel master, who had more than a few requests to use her dog as a stud, Hilde decided to eschew going to her quarters for a nap and put her new samples away. Putting her work in order would take less than a half hour and would probably erase some of her bad mood. Plants had a way of calming her that people didn’t. Maybe it was the influence of the Dalish, or just a reaction to spending most of her life locked away in Kinloch Hold, but she had little desire to be inside, even in the rain.

Her greenhouse and gardens were there waiting for her, in the enclosed space that had formerly been another practice yard for King Cailan. There was still plenty of space for the royal guard to train near their barracks, but this area had been set aside near the guest apartments so that the former king could entertain his guests with his sparring skills. No such space was needed any more, since Alistair had no desire to fight other dignitaries, and Anora had granted it to Hilde. It had been converted nicely, and she was pleased to see her rows of plants tended and cared for in her absence.

The gardens were an extension of her greenhouse, a place to plant more mature plants that required more space, but she kept a small section for growing her own reagents. Alchemy could be a consuming hobby, and there was never enough elfroot when she needed it. The greenhouse itself was a small wooden affair with a thatched roof and large windows. The glass had been the hardest part to get, but she’d argued vehemently for it, and it was installed just before she left. It was here where she would preform research and try to make her hybrid crosses of plants.

“You are the one they call the Hero of Ferelden.” A calm voice said when she entered her greenhouse to put down her samples, seeds and field journal. Hilde turned carefully, both expecting and not to see one of the tranquil.

He was a tranquil and he was standing in the middle of the space as if he’d been there forever. A young man with short, dark hair and dark brown skin, he spoke with a soft accent that sounded like a cross between Anders and Antivan. Hilde knew all the tranquil from the tower, but she’d never seen him before.

“Yes, I am. Are you here to help me?” It was best to be direct with tranquil, otherwise they would answer every question posed in turn and she would be there all day.

“I have been retained by Queen Anora to aid you in your research. My name is Markus and I am from the Cumberland Circle where I specialized in alchemy and botany. I have been tending to your greenhouse and garden in your absence. The servants were overwatering your herbs,” he told her.

“Thank you, Markus,” Hilde said. It was thoughtful of Anora to get her help, especially a tranquil, who would be very useful. It almost made her wish she’d stopped by the Circle of Magi instead of coming straight back from Highever, but there would have been little point besides indulging herself.

Markus said nothing unless prompted by something or someone, like most tranquil. Hilde didn’t mind, she went about putting her things away would speak with him about the changes in her plants. One thing crossed her mind, and she put voice to it before she could stop herself.

“Did the queen ask you to report my movements to her or Erlina?” she asked.

“Yes, my lady,” Markus said.

Hilde sighed, but said nothing more until she was ready to instruct Markus. Her mood, already precarious, soured completely. Welcome back to Denerim, she though to herself. She left Markus was a few perfunctory instructions, apologized for her brevity and then excused herself. It wasn’t until she was in her own quarters that her hands began to shake with rage.

Normally she wouldn't want this, she didn’t want to be angry, to continue these drawn out fights that led to no victor. Anora wasn’t in the palace, she’d already set off for Redcliffe, and there was no one around to stop her fighting with Alistair. This time, Hilde was spoiling for a fight. There had always been someone between them since the Landsmeet, but now she could find him, let him know what she was really feeling. Emotions too long held in check rose to the surface of her tired mind, fueled by her outrage at Anora’s brazen attempt at spying. Alistair should have stood up for her, should have done something, but no, it was always Hilde that earned the blame in his mind. This had gone on long enough, and when she located a servant and demanded Alistair’s whereabouts, no one even was brave enough to try to stop her.

“Your wife set a tranquil to spy on me!” Hilde shouted, startling Alistair from whatever it was he was writing before she flew into his study. Her voice was low, bestial and filled with a malice he’d never heard before.

“I didn't know." he stammered, but recovered his nerve in the last moment. "But it's likely because you can’t be trusted.” Alistair said, and wished he could take it back the moment it was out of his mouth.

Hilde screamed, shocking Alistair into complete stillness. It was more war cry than true scream, and the goblet that had once held his wine shattered in the fireplace. A burst of blue flame erupted as the alcohol was consumed by the heat. She advanced on him, and he shifted his stance to a defensive posture. He wouldn't hurt her; he'd done enough of that.

“Fuck you!” she hissed, and Alistair blanched at the vulgarity. Hilde swore, but usually in frustration, and not at people. He let his shock go, but the hurt remained, even as she turned on him again and poked a finger into his chest. The calm she so carefully tried to maintain had shattered finally and there was nothing pretty underneath. All of the while since the Landsmeet, Alistair had been able to convince himself that she didn't care, because of her feigned aloofness. It was impossible to hide behind that lie any longer. Her face, twisted with rage and stained with tears, was not the visage of someone who didn't care.

“I love you, Alistair, I love you! I tried to keep you from dying in the final battle so Ferelden could have a king, so I could have you, and you reward me by treating me like a criminal!”

He felt her magic welling up as her anger grew, and he did the only thing he could think to do. He didn’t want to smite her, and doubted he had adequate power, so he pushed her up against the wall, grabbing her hands in his before she could summon her powers.

“Stop,” he warned, feeling her magic still gathering. Then he added, “Hilde, I’m sorry, I'm so sorry.”

She looked like she might shout at him so more, but the mana he felt rushing to her fingers faded. He’d pinned her between him and the wall, and Alistair slid a knee between her legs to keep her from kicking out at him with any real leverage. Hilde was panting, anger still there but impotent in his hold. Alistair was still angry at her, and she with him, but it wasn’t all rage that simmered between the two. There was passion and all the things they hadn’t said or done in the past few months bottled up, stoppered until it threatened to break them. It was beyond time that they dealt with it, but she knew that it would be worse because they’d avoided any contact for so long.

She rubbed herself against his leg, looking up at him with defiant, flinty eyes. Alistair answered her with a kiss, claiming her with hard familiarity, knowing just how far he could go before they hurt each other. They were still Wardens - they didn't need precious handling. Roughness hadn’t exactly been something he’d thought he would enjoy before he met her, but found that within limits, it could be satisfying.

He held her with his body, and she let him, kissing and biting as he bared only what was necessary. This wasn’t lovemaking, it was too primal to be called that. It was frantic but an urgency filled with a need for release that would offer more than physical relief. Alistair’s great strength was put to use tearing away her dress, ripping the bodice between his hands as if he’d forgotten how buttons worked in his rage. She was just as harsh in her response, shocking him with an electric bolt to stun him while she pulled at his clothes and hair.

For all his angry passion, he wasn’t truly rough with her. When Alistair entered her, he was as gentle as always, though his soft touch was underscored with a deep growl. It was hard and quick, each thrust felt like it was driving her back further into the wall. There was a fury between them, her hips meeting his own with force, their sounds inarticulate grunts and groans that belied the animalism in their coupling. There was no special care in this artless joining, just flesh driven by emotions too strong to stay abed any longer. His hands were careless, scouring away the gentle, thoughtful caresses of Fergus Cousland with each touch. Hilde found that she didn't mind, not with Alistair.

When he cried out in completion, Alistair slumped against her. They stayed joined for a quiet moment, then he offered her his hand as they separated. Hilde took it, and let Alistair pull her into an embrace. It was complicated - hard and fierce and forgiving - but these were Alistair's arms, ones she knew so well and had sheltered her before. She leaned in to kiss him, catching him on the chin and working her way to his mouth. They were kissing before she knew it, with the same banked ferocity that had guided their coupling, but the edge was worn off.

They knew each other too well. She went to lay down to the floor, careful to avoid the shards of glass from the thrown goblet, but certain that they would continue what they'd started. Hilde drew him down next to her with the merest hint of a beckon and he followed without question. There they lay together, with less haste to burden them, but still frantic. The anger wasn't all gone, but was dissipating like steam on a breeze.

Before they had been working off resentment and frustration, but this time, they were making up. The kiss they shared was gentle against the lips, with a soft sweep of tongue. They were no longer battling. They were long practiced at being quiet; living in their camp during the Blight had taught them the virtues of a mere whispered word or how the weight of a glance and they fell back into those old habits. Hazel eyes no longer held angry fire when they beheld her, and he asked her forgiveness in a whisper as he dropped a kiss on her neck. Hilde slipped completely from her robes and let her whole body press against his.

Alistair made sure that she climaxed before he did for a second time. He was practiced in knowing what Hilde wanted and had been with her alone. He found the fading mark that Fergus had left on her collar acknowledging it by placing one of his own over it. Alistair's kisses stung sweetly, moving towards hard heat as he grew more enveloped in her pleasure. Lips skimmed over her body, stopping to suckle at her dark bronze nipples and then kiss a trail lower. His hands were always busy, teasing and whispering across overheated skin that was already frustrated. The first time he smiled was when Hilde made a noise of impatience.

He gave in readily, working her to a release with first his fingers, the thrust of one digit into the vibrant, wet heat he'd just enjoyed after a long absence. He let her body set the pace and made a last pass at her breast, taking each in turn in his mouth, then moving down her body. Hilde appreciated him with a gaze made hazy with lust once Alistair was properly between her legs. This was the king of Ferelden, her king, and he knew just what she liked. His mouth was the final and best part of all the ways he'd learned to please her over the course of a year.

There was little patience in him for teasing touches at the best of times, and this was no exception. There were hard, long licks up the length of her slit, and then a concentrated effort on her pearl. While he swirled and suckled, Hilde lay back and let sensation roll over her. Alistair was building a storm within her, and she had waited so very long for it to rain. It started with thunder, building in her veins until sparks of lightning came, those hot, fleetingly perfect strikes of pleasure that signaled impending release. Then all it took was a nudge from his admirable nose, the heat of breath on sensitive folds, lips sucking and sliding without gaining purchase. Had she been standing, the force of it would have doubled her over, and Alistair, stuck between two clenched thighs with all sound blotted out so suddenly and effectively, briefly thought that he'd gone deaf. Then she relaxed a smidgen and he heard his own name whispered after a plea to the Maker, and felt a familiar rush of pride at his prowess.

Then he slid inside of her, stroking her stomach as he did, easing himself in. He had youth and his Grey Warden stamina to rally him, though Hilde was more than sufficient motivation. He felt her legs curl around his waist, her feet on his back. Sweat rolled down his broad chest but he paid it no notice. There was only him and Hilde, the connection between them reaffirming and sparking with life. This second time was only a little longer than the first. Alistair, spurred on by the sight of purple hair sticking to brown flesh, the jiggling of breasts on his every stroke, the murmur of his name in the quiet room, found his release. He came with a long, low groan that felt so powerful he felt it ripple down his spine and into his curled toes.

The lay together, the cold of the floor seeping through the rug and leeching the excess heat from their overworked bodies. Both were panting, her head against his chest as they recovered. They had been like this so many times during the Blight, so often that it felt like they had gone back in time. Granted, they'd never made love in the palace in Denerim, but only because they hadn't exactly been invited to the palace before the Landsmeet.

"Alistair," Hilde said, trying to grant a coherent voice to all that was swirling around her tired mind. "I will always love you."

"And I you," he answered sadly. "That's the problem, isn't it?'

If she had expected him to come to her that night, she would have gone to bed disappointed. But she was not expecting him, not truly. She'd just hoped that he would come to her, that these weeks of disappointment and anger and heartache would somehow fade away. It wasn't a realistic wish, but Hilde had endured far too much reality to truly enjoy it. She went to sleep thinking of Alistair.

Anora would be gone for many weeks. Hilde wondered if they would carry on in this passionate but artless way or whether Alistair was up to working out some of their problems. It was her most ardent wish to reconcile with him, truly make amends for all the pain she’d caused, but she wondered if she could, if they could manage it. For all the wonderful qualities he had in abundance, Alistair was nigh intractable in his anger. It was funny when it was turned on their mutual enemies, or put into casual quips that Alistair fulfilled in deadly battle, but not quite so charming when turned on Hilde herself.

Her answer came the next day when the king summoned her to his study after dinner. She had almost thought herself ignored, which had caused its own pain during the day. Would affairs ever be as simple and chic as they were presented in the novels she daydreamed over as an apprentice in the tower? She didn’t think so, not if this was any indication. Had she realized the amount of pain such a passionate and ultimately destructive affair would cause, she mightn’t have given in the day before. Alistair was right there waiting, pacing a tread into the floors as she came in.

He came at her immediately, catching her in a kiss. She had expected fire, a crushing mouth to hers that demanded retribution and ached with desire. The kiss was nothing like that, it was confused and a little sad. Maybe Alistair had wanted to test her, to see if she would howl and spit at him as if the night before hadn't happened. She did not, there was plenty of fire in her, but it wasn't directed towards him. Within an evening their relationship had become both simpler and more complex all at once. Her lips were tender as they met his, gentle in their response. What burned between them wasn't all fiery passion or memory, but a real steadfast love. There was so much love between them, it nearly overwhelmed her. It was evident in the way they touched and all that they tried to hide. After a moment longer he and Hilde broke apart.

“I thought maybe,” Alistair started, but then gave a small laugh, “it doesn’t matter.”

“I think we thought the same thing, that there was only anger and passion left between us, no matter what was said yesterday. I don’t know whether to be relieved or outraged that we’re still in love with one another.” Hilde said, commenting on it as blandly as if she were making remarks on a new style of dress.

Alistair, so used to her affectations of calm, laughed, the sound bitter as tea left too long to steep. “To think, I made this whole big deal of wanting to court Anora, to be more with her. I feel like such a fool.”

“Don’t,” Hilde said. “She is worth an effort, and has been trying in her own way to broker an understanding between us.” She bit her lip, wondering if she should put to words her attraction to Anora, but it was so nebulous even to her that she wasn't sure she should say anything. But Alistair must have sensed the thoughts she was keeping to herself.

"I might be wrong about this, but it seems like she cares for both of us. She was trying in her way, to get us to at least be friendly. I'm not sure what that means." He looked like he wanted Hilde to correct him, to point out a flaw, but she could not.

"Once upon a time, we did entertain the notion of her coming to bed with us. Perhaps she is looking for that, or maybe more." Hilde covered her face with her palms, thinking back on it. She'd been a different person then, even as she killed darkspawn. The Landsmeet had changed so much. "I don't know."

"Neither do I and since she's not here, we can't ask. Let's have dinner."

Hilde smiled up at him. "I'd like that. Not being with you has been..." she wasn't sure how to finish that sentence. It had been hellish, awful and freeing in a strange way, but she had missed him terribly. "I've missed you."

"I missed you as well. It was much harder to bear being apart from than I thought it would be." Alistair admitted. They were getting perilously close to talk of why they'd separated, a subject neither of them wanted to discuss, not then.

"Come on, I think there's cheese soup tonight," he said, sounding far more boyish than he had any right. Hilde laughed and let her king lead the way down to the private dining room. Being together even with their unstable footing, was far better than living apart.

#

A message sent by Erlina to Queen Anora

"Denerim is much unchanged for the most part, but still very busy. Citizens come daily, seeking relief from the horrors of country life. Your father has written to both you and the Hero of Ferelden, reporting that his duties are going well.

My lady, it is obvious that the relationship between the king and the mage has changed, but I cannot say how. They spend more time together, sometimes it ends in tears and yelling, and other times it does not. I am not sure if they have resumed their previous relationship, and in my opinion no, but there remains a small possibility that they could. I shall keep you informed."

 

After reading her mail and breakfasting, Anora donned a dusty day dress and went out to Redcliffe village. As it had with Alistair, it had taken work and time, but her persistence with the people paid off. Many had outright forgiven her for the deeds of her father's soldiers, but she would never sway them all. Anora wasn't foolish enough to try, but winning over a majority of the people did warm her heart. They were her people once again, and she was doing her best to help them regain their lives.

Working with the people always led her to the Chantry, and she found it much the best place to think in Redcliffe. The castle felt overwhelming and outside the Chantry doors there was too much of the noise and bustle of rebuilding. Inside it was cool, smelled like every Andrastian Chantry she'd ever been in and mostly quiet. Her bag of dirt weighed on her shoulder and with a motion, she handed it off to one of the guards in her retinue.

Of course, she did her part in helping Hilde's research as well. She and her guards took soil samples and various bits of flora back to her room each night, carefully labeling them to be turned over upon return to Denerim. Once he was told why she collected her samples, Teagan was eager to help. He was quite fond of Hilde, and she seemed to be the only person that had earned his good opinion. Nothing else met with quite the same amount of affection and Anora began to suspect that Teagan had slept with the warden at some point, though she couldn’t think when it might have happened. Perhaps his wife had as well. Hilde was unopposed to being the temporary third addition to a couple, as she'd reminded Anora more than once. She closed her mind against the thought; she would not be jealous of Teagan.

"Your Majesty." A large woman sat next to her on the pew and fanned her ample bosom. "Sorry if I'm interrupting your prayers."

"Not at all." Anora answered. There were only a few people that ever dared to come up to her and talk, even as she worked beside them.

"There's too many to pray for them all." the woman said, giving the queen a knowing look.

Anora nodded gravely. "I was thinking of my first husband today. Redcliffe is a good place for remembering him. He loved it here, with his uncles and mother."

Her memory of their shared childhood was hazy, but she remembered Queen Rowan doting on her son, even in her illness. That far back, Anora could only recall vague scraps of moments, but a trip to Redcliffe with the Queen and then prince Cailan was one of them.

"King Alistair did too. Maker, I remember him running around here like it was yesterday. My brother wasn't much older than him, and now he's dead and gone from the Blight."

"I am so sorry," Anora said.

"'S alright, I suppose. Hard thing is keep living, isn't it? The dead get their rest. Don't you be troubled anymore, just pray that they're at the Maker's side and light the candle. Then you've done all you can."

Anora nodded in agreement but said nothing more. The Chant of Transfigurations 10:1 rose readily to her lips. She lit a candle for Cailan before she leaving, and let the Revered Mother clasp her hand as she left. It was all she could do now.

She had spoken truly in the Chantry, Cailan had loved the rustic western town. It wasn't just because his mother's family resided there, although that bond had held special meaning for him. The area was an interesting crossroads, with a mix of Orlesian settlers that somehow stayed in Ferelden, dwarves coming from Orzammar and traveling caravans of all sorts. People had excited and invigorated him. He'd been good at these visits, outgoing, affable and extroverted in a way that she was not. In a night he would have been able to bring Teagan around and keep him in good spirits, but Anora made grudging progress day by day.

She wept for Cailan many nights in Redcliffe, and offered prayers at the Chantry for him. He was such a beautiful, complicated man, gone too soon. Her king, her husband, her friend. During the Blight she had spent many months crying, so much time that it felt like her tears had dried up and she was keeping his soul from happiness at the Maker’s side, so she resolved to press on. There were other concerns, and she put too much trust in her father to handle them. Queens weren’t afforded time to mourn and lick their wounds.

There were nights when she thought of Denerim, of Alistair and Hilde. Erlina wrote her letters about the goings on in the palace, and she knew that they were speaking again, though her maid was unsure if they were just having quieter arguments or if their much denied love was being acknowledged physically. Anora guessed it might be both, though she hoped it wasn’t. Alistair even wrote once, but it was an update of his progress in the city and little more than that. He had signed off affectionately, but didn't mention Hilde at all.

She wanted, Maker, Anora wasn't even sure what she wanted. Cailan wouldn't easily fall to the side, and nor should he, but she wanted to at least not feel guilt about everything that had happened since Ostagar. For the rest of her life she would miss her husband, but she still had a life and Ferelden lead, alongside Alistair. Maker forgive her for liking him so much, for wanting to know what more of his kisses felt like. If the Maker was merciful she would be able to forget the warmth of his smile, and help her refrain from imagining what he and Hilde were doing together at night.

Distance was supposed to give her perspective, but it had yet to grant her any clarity. She thought ceaselessly of things she didn't feel she could change and people that seemed out of reach.

Teagan was even more difficult to understand than her feelings. He was cold, which was unlike him. Even in his anger, Teagan was usually a warm-hearted, understanding man, possessed of a canny insight into the true nature of people. Maybe that was why he was so angry, because he hadn't seen anything but a hero when he'd looked at her father, but came away with the kinds of scars that a monster left.

He avoided her, unless he couldn't. When she didn't come to dinner, he went to look for her.

"I'm not in the mood for company," she told him, sitting in his chair in castle library.

"Too bad," Teagan informed her, and sat down in the chair next to her. The fire burned bright, but she wasn't looking at it. Instead she looked at her hands, folded primly in her lap and sighed heavily.

Between them was an end table that Eamon only used for holding books and drinks, in that order. Anora had employed it in the same way, but her book was nothing of note, just whatever she'd plucked from the library walls to make her look as if she wasn't planning on getting completely drunk, but it had happened as she sipped at her wine during an engrossing story.

"Did you sleep with Hilde?" Anora asked. It was too blunt, too rude, but she didn't care. Teagan grimaced at her.

"How much wine have you had?" he asked, looking into her goblet. It was empty.

"Just a little." she said, and looked up at him. He sighed heavily, got himself a goblet and another glass of wine. Before he answered he uncorked it, then poured himself a glass and granted Anora a refill.

"No. I suppose it is difficult for you to believe in fidelity, but I have always been faithful to my wife. Hilde saved this town, healed the people when she herself was hurting and saved my brother. But she has always been in love with Alistair, for as long as I've known her."

"You act as if you have." Anora said. She didn't mean swagger and boasting, because that was not Teagan's way.

Teagan fell deeply in love when he did so, and that had only happened twice, to her knowledge. Once when he was betrothed and fell in love with the elder sister instead which caused all kinds of scandal until the younger sister broke the engagement, and once with an inappropriate bar wench that died from fever. Then he'd married, but for all the talk of their devotion, Anora had never considered that he'd fallen in love with his wife. Scandal and tragedy dogged the woman at every turn, and his reputation of old still lingered. He'd slept with a good deal more women than he had ever let himself care about, but that was the way of the nobility. Hilde was singular in his regard, and Anora had guessed about their relationship. Wrongly, it seemed.

"We spent a night together, but it wasn't what you might think. It was the night before the march to Denerim. She was scared, alone, and intended to die. All she wanted was to see the sunrise, so we sat together in library and waited out the night." Teagan said.

That explanation was all he was going to give the queen, but it had been more than that. Hilde had been standing alone in the library, and he went to her. In her shock, she told him of the sacrifice the Grey Wardens had to make, why it had to be a Grey Warden. He'd become party to secrets he shouldn't know, but they had been terribly heavy on her heart. Then she'd cried in his arms. She sobbed mostly for Alistair, whom she loved, and no longer spoke to her. She was closed-mouthed about Loghain, but had told him that the old man spent that night in Morrigan's room, though Teagan could scarcely believe it of him. When she stopped crying, sat with her head against his chest and they waited for the sun to rise together. Hilde had asked him to talk about his wife when her voice grew hoarse from talking about Alistair.

But then she hadn't died and neither had Loghain. He'd wanted to ask her about that, but the chance had never come up, not since the end of the Blight. When he saw her again in Denerim, her sad eyes were still following Alistair around. It wasn't his place to get between them, as much as Teagan might have wished to be the one to mend their rift.

"That is all?" Anora asked.

"It is. She was scared, heartbroken and facing a battle she thought would be her last. We all thought we would die in the attempt. Historically, the Blights have never been kind, Your Majesty." Teagan reminded her.

"No, I suppose they haven't." Anora was glum now, and Teagan poured her another measure of wine.

"She's younger than Alistair by a year, almost to the day. The Circle isn't any easy life. When I came in to the library, she was making a list of all the things she'd wanted to do and had since becoming a Grey Warden. There were things like 'cooking a meal for myself' and 'seeing Denerim' but she also said 'falling in love' was the most important item." Teagan stopped, and Anora wasn't sure whether it was the recollection overwhelming him or if he'd just remembered to whom he was speaking.

"It is important," Anora said, looking miserable, 'but I can't say I know much about it. There was a time, before the war ended, when I had hoped that I might love Alistair, but now..." she trailed off and Teagan offered her more wine. Anora waved it away.

"Now?" he asked.

"Hilde and Alistair. They both make things so complicated by hating each other. And I don't hate either of them. Hilde is so purple and brave, and Alistair isn't much like Cailan at all. He's a better king than I would have ever thought. She had magic and likes plants a great deal." Anora was babbling, drink loosening things she'd held too tight for too long and dragging them into the open. Teagan snorted at her description of Hilde as 'purple and brave'.

It took Teagan a few minutes to realize what Anora was trying to say, what she couldn't say outright. When he understood, he looked into her large blue eyes until she was silent. "Maker's breath. You're in love with Hilde and Alistair. You love them both, and they are making you sad. And you've never been in love before."

"I loved Cailan."

"Falling in love is a completely different experience than loving someone," Teagan said. "It's much messier."

She nodded, and tears filled her eyes. Teagan reached out and covered her hand with his own. In some other life, he might have been a healer of some sort. Teagan's gift was diving in and helping -- he was never too proud to be another set of hands to work -- which would keep him popular and tired for all of his rule.

"I think it's time we stopped feuding, if that's all right with you," he said softly.

"I'd like that."

"So would I," Teagan replied honestly.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The artwork for this piece depicts a scene in this chapter. Thank you, Nyssa!  
> http://yonadraws.tumblr.com/post/119505264418/here-is-my-piece-for-the-dragon-age-big-bang-i
> 
> Esperanza is the real name of a hybrid floribunda rose, but it's a delightful buff and pink color, not red. It's been changed a little in Ferelden.

Warden Hilde,  
I hope this arrives back at the palace before you return from Highever. Our mission has been going well, though it is difficult to gain the trust of some of the freeholders. I am relieved to say that no one has turned down my blade when fighting darkspawn however. 

The weather continues to hold. I will make my way to the Warden's Keep and resupply there. If you've any new orders for me, send them there. There is talk of darkspawn on the northern roads, and I will examine these claims as I hear of them and keep you apprised.

Loghain

The message had been delivered to Hilde in the morning, and while it was a perfectly normal message, she felt like Loghain had left out a great deal. She worried for the other warden, wondered how he and his team fared on the roads. Though Loghain was far from helpless and could take care of himself, he was the only other working warden in Ferelden, and she did not want to lose him unduly. 

Hilde suddenly felt selfish for retreating to Highever and then coming back to Alistair's arms upon her return to Denerim. Her own life had take up some much of her thoughts in the last few weeks that her work felt secondary. That wasn't the case; she worked as much on trying to heal the Blighted land and had killed some darkspawn on the way to Highever, but she still felt like she could do more. She was supposed to be aiding after the Blight, not indulging herself.

As insidious as those thoughts were, she realized she had also needed the rest. Most wardens don't ever live through a Blight, let alone have to fight it on their own. She'd been exhausted and Loghain hadn't been, even after the civil war, so it made sense to send him on when she couldn't go any further. The will to keep fighting ceaselessly had deserted her after the archdemon fell.

However indulgent she was, Hilde was not one to lie about in bed all morning. Besides, it was too cold in the bed without her dog to lay next to her, and Bruno was still in the pens. He was getting quite a few requests to stud now, and the kennelmaster seemed happy enough to find suitable mates. If only her days could be occupied in such noble pursuits. She descended to her greenhouse after a quick breakfast, greeted Markus and outlined their experiments for the day. 

Alistair requested for her to come see him when she took her luncheon and she welcomed his presence. They were taking small, unsteady steps, but Hilde was full of hope. He was grimy when she arrived, and it almost reminded her of when they'd first gotten together. It felt like such a long time ago to her mind. His morning was spent out in Denerim working among the people, but the afternoon was set aside for meetings with Eamon, correspondence and all of the more boring business of the crown. 

While she leisurely nibbled at the food, Alistair scrubbed away his grime. Now that he could have them regularly, he luxuriated in full baths, but he couldn't entice Hilde into the water with him, and settled for a quick wash from the basin. When he came to join her at the table, he smelled of soap and his hair was still wet when Hilde leaned in to kiss him. 

"How was your morning, love?" he asked, and a thrill went through Hilde. She smiled on him, feeling more comfortable than she'd since she'd first come to Denerim.

"It was fine. Markus and I are working with the plants. I think on the next caravan of goods going westward, I will send along some plants for whichever Banns are on the way."

"The schedule should be easy enough to get, and the aid caravans go out all the time. I'm happy your work is yielding progress," Alistair said, smiling at her.

"And what of yours? Are the people of Denerim still agog at seeing their king working among them?" she asked.

Alistair chuckled. "Not agog, but rather afraid I'm going to mess something up. Though I'm not sure how to ruin things more thoroughly than the darkspawn did." He quirked an eyebrow and looked at her. "They're all clamoring for you. They think your mighty magic is just the thing to help put up the walls and feed their bellies."

"It will be my research that helps feed them, if anything. Still, going into the city isn't a bad idea. I have been feeling like I need to do more warden duty and less navel gazing."

"A little introspection is always good," Alistair said.

Hilde snorted. "Not at the cost of my good sense."

He reached across the table and put a hand over hers. "We're still getting back on our feet, all of us. A little rest is more than you're entitled to for a year of ending the Blight and the Ferelden Civil War."

He didn't release her hand, and in a moment, the food was forgotten. Alistair was determined to see that she enjoyed herself that day, at the very least. She was getting used to his plush, kingly bed and having the king in it. During the Blight Alistair had carried a tense knot of emotions that only seemed to be freed for small moments. Without the pressure, he was thriving in new ways, and Hilde delighted to see them. He was still Alistair, all hands and enthusiasm, but he was confident, gentler, and something closer to content when they were quiet together.

They made love in the tentative, careful way that they'd taken to since making up. There wasn't a lot of talking, but they'd been through most of the physical awkwardness before. There were still apologies to make, and the two of them made them with kisses and whispers, tangled in the fine royal sheets.

Alistair lay in bed with her and talked about training new troops once Denerim was in better shape, about their over-reliance on the Royal Navy for defense from those that would attack them in their weakened state. He was all politics now, whether he realized it or not, and she felt that she must mention Loghain's letter to him. Maybe he would want her to go and make sure the roads were clear. She could do that, but she would miss his renewed presence in his bed.

"I've had a letter from Loghain this morning. He mentions hearing of darkspawn on the northern roads, but I saw little activity when I went to Highever. I wonder if they are fleeing or amassing anew."

Alistair stiffened and shifted away from her at the mention of Loghain. "I can deploy troops. Loghain isn't to be trusted, not in word or deed."

"Why would he lie about this? He is a Grey Warden now, and this is his duty."

"Don't remind me," Alistair grumbled, and sat up, away from her. Damn, this was not the ending Hilde wanted after such a pleasant midday diversion.

"Why is it upsetting you so that he is doing his job? Loghain isn't here, and that's the best you can ask for at this point?"

Alistair rose from the bed and turned his back on her, looking out the window. "Hilde, I can't explain it. My mind knows this is logical, that he is still out there, but I can't turn him from enemy to friend so easily."

"You didn't mind doing the reverse with me."

She watched him run a hand through his hair and sighed. Alistair was entitled to his feelings, but she thought they were bordering on ridiculous at this point. Loghain would write her, he would come back to the capital and he still lived. Anora was glad of it, and Hilde wasn't so gladdened by his life, but she saw the usefulness of it. Alistair would have to reconcile himself to it sooner or later.

Instead of waiting for him to answer her accusation, Hilde got up and slipped her robe back on. There wasn't much more to say. 

"Are you leaving?" Alistair asked, looking genuinely surprised to find her mostly dressed when he turned back around.

"It's just me you're punishing for Loghain's life. Not Loghain, certainly not your wife or the people that supported him. Just me. I am sick of it, Alistair! We have no chance at having a decent relationship with Anora if we can't get through this. Can we, Alistair? The choice is yours. I've already fought alongside him."

"I don't know," Alistair said, looking truly conflicted. "I'm sorry. Give me some time." 

And with that, he walked into his dressing room, leaving Hilde quite alone and unsure what to do. It was his bedroom after all, but it was the middle of the day. The prospect of going back to her greenhouse to work didn't suit and she was at loose ends. The guards said nothing when they led her back to her room after she dressed. She wished Anora was back, at least to help her get some perspective and to give Alistair some balance.

#

It was a relief to leave Redcliffe and for Anora to take her tour back to the capital. She was stopping in a few places along the way back, letters from her father let her know that the way was clear enough from darkspawn. Still, she kept her guards at the ready. The main road was near ruined from the darkspawn. Though they hadn't tainted everything in their way, the heart of the bannorn near Lothering was mostly dead. She hated passing through that area, but there was no faster way.

The skyline of Denerim had one new addition when she came home, and there was much new construction underway. Alistair must have been busy while she was gone. It made her happy that things were going so well without her. It was necessary to leave now and again, even in times such as these, and knowing Alistair could handle both the leaving and staying was a great relief to her. 

She deliberately kept her thoughts from Hilde as she re-entered the palace, Erlina appearing at her side moments after she got out of the carriage. There were more important things to think of first besides wondering about the warden.

"Welcome home, Your Majesty." Erlina said breathlessly as she came up to Anora's side. "His Majesty the King offers his welcome but is in a meeting at the moment and cannot be disturbed."

"Tell me what has been going on since your last letter." Anora ordered and her maid and confidante obliged.

"Lady Hilde is in her greenhouses in the garden, if you would like to consult with her. I believe Markus is there as well," Erlina said. "Perhaps you might see her before you see the king."

The suggestion was heavy, but well intended. Anora did want to speak to Hilde, she just wasn't sure what to say. What did one say after spending all their time away in contemplation and coming to no conclusion? It was so unlike her, and that threw Anora off as well. She should know how she felt, but she didn't, though that didn't stop her from walking straight to the greenhouse to find Hilde.

There was a heady mix of scents in the greenhouse, some earthy, spicy or floral, but it all combined sweetly. Anora had never been inside before when Hilde’s plants were in bloom, and she took deep breaths of the fresh smell, realizing that this was what she’d missed as she journeyed through Ferelden - the scent of all the green and growing thing that made Ferelden the nation of unrefined, natural beauty. If Hilde could get it to happen in her greenhouse, she hope that she could do it with the rest of Ferelden.

As expected, she was in there with the tranquil, Markus, doing whatever it was that the did with her plant research. They were not talking, but when Anora came in they both heads turned towards the entrance. Hilde made another note, brushed dirt off the smock covering her robes and stood up to kneel. Markus had already made obeisance to her.

“Your Majesty, I hadn’t realized you’d returned.” Hilde said, her voice cool. Anora bade Markus to give them some privacy, so she could really talk to Hilde.

“Alistair and I have mended our relationship somewhat, as I am sure you’ve already heard.” Hilde said. 

Straight to the point. Anora admired that about her. Any noble might have tried to feel her out, ask about her journey, pretend that they had nothing to say, but Hilde was always honest. Had Anora known that a few months ago, she would have slept with Hilde and Alistair when she’d first been propositioned in Arl Eamon’s estate before the Landsmeet.

“I had, but it wasn’t clear how well it was going. I am both pleased for the two of you and a little disappointed.” Anora said. She too was honest, though it wasn’t her habit to be forthright. 

“Both he and I regret that we have or might continue cause you pain. However, Your Majesty, I hope that my honesty does help in that regard. I will not keep secrets from you, not about this. Once I gave you my word about it, and I will not go back on it.”

“That is good to know.” Anora replied. She walked around the greenhouse, partly because she couldn’t bear to meet Hilde’s gaze, but also because her eye was caught by the plants. 

There were so many! How had she managed to grow them all in such a short time? The scent was intensified with the door closed, as was the heat. Blossoms of all sorts clamored for her attention from tiny white flowers on a potato plant, the deep green of moss, to loud, vivid blooms that could have only come from the northern coast. Anora took her time, looking into the plants and their pots, reading off the names to herself. 

She stopped at a pot without a label, but with a hearty green plant in it with a mass of light purple flowers on it. “What’s this one?” she asked.

“Valerian.” Hilde answered. She was closer than Anora expected, following, waiting for a reaction. There was nothing more for Anora to say, she was disappointed and a bit relieved. The hostile tension that came from Alistair would abate, even if only for a short while, and that was reason enough to endorse their relationship.

She moved on to a astoundingly red rose. "This rose is beautiful. I've never seen its like."

"During the Blight," Hilde said slowly, carefully choosing her words, "Alistair gave me a rose. I preserved it magically, so that I could grow from it again. We did not have time for me to plant the cutting properly, so I mixed it with another rose breed that I found in Highever. This is the first flowering."

"What do you call it?"

"Esperanza." Anora's Antivan was never the best, but she did recognize the word for hope. It had been sent in many a missive to her, "we hope that Ferelden and Antiva will continue their beneficial friendship" or "it is our hope to host a visit from your esteemed majesty soon." She was sure held a more personal meaning for Hilde. 

To hope for love during the Blight was an audacious act, and Anora admired Alistair's nerve. He had been brave and hoped for love, and Anora found herself wondering if she could do the same. This was no Blight, but she did not have an ordinary life. She was a queen, and though it felt selfish and against all she'd been taught, she wanted to have that same hope Alistair had during the Blight. Could there be something for her in return for her affections, something besides lonely heartache?

But she recalled how Hilde had, and still did, look at her. Without Alistair's anger at Hilde there was nothing between them now, at least it felt freer than it had been since their first meeting. Anora took a deep breath and reached out to Hilde, scared that she might turn away from her touch. She didn’t. The Warden was uncertain, but smiled at her. Anora leaned in and kissed her, pressing her mouth softly against Hilde’s own full lips and closing her eyes. Hilde tasted like fresh mint leaves, and Anora realized that she’d probably been tasting the plants off and on all day. It almost made her laugh, but she turned her mirth inward and let it come out as a teasing of her tongue against Hilde’s own exceptionally minty one. 

Their kiss went on, Anora unraveling into it, letting her hands tangle in Hilde’s mass of plum colored hair. It was piled into a lose knot on top of her head and Anora worked it down, freeing it to flow over her shoulders in a wave of purple ringlets. In her green robes, Hilde looked like one of her flowers.

Hands touched her tentatively, exploring her with a light touch. When Hilde brushed a knuckle over Anora’s nipple, she moaned. It was almost too much, just the slight contact, but she craved it again. She wanted Hilde’s hands all over her, without the impediment of fabric. The touch came again, this time more focused, determined and Anora bit her own lip to hold in her unseemly moaning. It was the realization of how unseemly it was that made her draw back, because she could not possibly have sex in a outbuilding filled with plants. 

Once away from the delicious heat of Hilde and her wandering hands, Anora thought about her duty, her new and confused husband, and her life. This would complicate matters more than a little. She would need to speak with Alistair about this, and his own relationship with Hilde. Maker, why couldn’t they all just agree to get along and let it be what it was? If she as queen could come to that conclusion, why couldn’t her king or his lover?

“Anora, don’t run away.” Hilde began, but Anora shook her head.

“Please, let me think. You’ve just resumed a relationship with Alistair and I don’t want to complicate things. But I felt…” she trailed off, unsure how to explain what she’d felt.

“What will you say to Alistair?” she asked.

Anora shook her head. She didn’t know yet, but the smell of flowers felt like it was overpowering her mind. The room felt oppressively hot. Hilde stood there, and all Anora could see was roses blossoms of a deep red behind her. Her vision clouded with deep crimson of her roses at the edges. With a shaking hand, she reached for the door and swung it open.


	9. Chapter 9

Alistair tried to be stony when Anora told him that she kissed Hilde, but it faded quickly. They are not lovers, not he and she. His one foray into a deeper relationship didn't mean that she couldn't kiss whomever she pleased, even Hilde. He was curious about the way she'd gone to Hilde and not to him when she returned to Denerim, but that question could be asked another day, if at all. He suspected Anora was still uncomfortable with his resemblance to Cailan, and her attraction to Hilde seemed more pronounced.

After her talk with Teagan, Queen Anora knew that she had to as brave for herself as she was for her people. She didn't blink when she proposed that they all maintain a relationship, and Alistair didn’t laugh or scorn her. In fact, he reacted much better than she expected, considering that he was raised in a Chantry and all of that. He told Anora of the pirate that he and Hilde bedded, and how he would have enjoyed more than a sexual relationship with her. She appreciated that, it was gratifying to know that he wanted her and liked her as well.

"You look like you don't believe me," Alistair said, "but it's all true. Circle mages have an innocent look to them, but you'd be surprised." 

Anora laughed and he joined in, growing less and less surprised by both Hilde and Alistair the more they talked about their pasts. It was beginning to look like she was the inexperienced one in the group and she had been with Cailan. Still, it had only been Cailan, all her life, despite her own desires. When she didn't inquire further about Alistair and Hilde's shared escapades, Alistair spoke again.

“Did you think that we hadn’t discussed such a possibility? Hilde had a deep attraction to you from the moment the two of you met. It was just that things got in the way.” he said and scowled.

“So this is something you want, to share your lover with me?”

Alistair ran a hand through his hair, thinking it over. “I don’t know how a relationship would work, not for long term. But that’s evident, since I ruined mine so well. What I am saying is that I would be willing to try, but I don’t know, Maker, this seems absurd. Three people seems like three too many, or one too short. But I care for both of you, and as long as we are open and caring, this might be something good.”

“Would Hilde be amenable?”

“Yes, probably. You could always ask.”

“Why me?” Anora asked.

“Because you’re the one that isn’t part of the already established relationship. It would take some work, but you and I have already said we’d like to try to be together.”

His doubts fed her own, though she didn’t miss the carnal interest that glowed in his eyes. So often she thought of him as naive Alistair her too-young husband, but he definitely had experience she hadn’t sexually.

When she found her voice again all she could say was, “let me think on this.” before she left.

The next morning she went to the Chantry, as she did nearly every morning in Denerim. She needed the clarity and safety of the sanctuary, she needed the smell of wood oil and prayer books and dust to make her forget the scent of flowers and the gleam in Alistair’s eyes. Or maybe she needed them to sharpen her memories, make them more vivid and sure. She didn’t know.

Most of the clerics left her alone while she prayed. They offered her their prayers from time to time, but not many spoke to her aside from the Grand Cleric. She was a stern woman, but no less insightful for her severity.

It should have occurred to Anora that with her soul in such turmoil, the Grand Cleric would seek her out. 

“Your soul is burdened, Queen Anora.” the Grand Cleric said softly, kneeling down next to her to pray.

“Yes.”

“You worry about your people and this city. Now that we are saved from the Blight, we are always on the knife’s edge.”

‘That is true, Your Grace. I work tirelessly to ensure that we do survive this time.” Anora admitted. She wanted to say more, that she was tired and lonely and scared - terrified for that all her bravado when it came to being queen, she personally would never get to have what she wanted.

“Do not work too hard, Your Majesty. Places - whether it be a stretch of forest or a whole country - have their own destinies. All people can do is witness them. What you do, you do for the people and have you to start with yourself.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. You’re given me much to think on.”

“The Maker’s Blessing be upon you, Queen Anora.” The Grand Cleric said as she got up to leave. 

The services would be starting soon, in less than a quarter hour. Anora got up and exited with her retinue, wondering if the Grand Cleric was right. Were places not part of the destiny of the people that lived in them, or were people along for the ride with the places? The uncertainty ate at her, making Anora's step heavy as she went back to the palace.

#

Alistair wasn't sure about all of this, even less than he had been before he'd taken a wife and a mistress. Maker, how had it come to this? He wanted Hilde, always, she was his love, and he'd married Anora, but now the whole thing was turning into a relationship between the three of them. How did three people fall in love? It was clear that Hilde and Anora had feelings for each other, and he was warming to Anora, liked to hear her voice in the mornings and see her smile the way he had when he fell for Hilde. It was all so complicated.

So he stayed out as much as he could. Perhaps he should have been in the castle more, opened up about his confusion and spoken to someone. But who would understand? It wasn't as if the Chantry had classes for such situations. They would condemn him - a man could only be married to one person at a time, and he wanted to commit to two women, one the hero of the age and the other his queen. He sighed heavily, but it was hidden under the noise of the city. Stalls had reopened, though there was little trade. Little was better than none, and people were eating again, with help from the stores his soldiers distributed. Fish and bread was a boring meal, but better than nothing. 

His mind was ever on his own woes, even as he aided his people in theirs. If having two people who wanted to engage in a complicated and loving relationship could be considered a proper woe, then that was what he had. The only person he could think to ask without any embarrassment was Teagan, and his sort-of uncle was still in Redcliffe. Alistair had to navigate these waters on his own, and he wasn't sure what to do, at least not with regards to his love life.

Denerim he can help. He knows how to build things, how to fix roofs and raise walls. These are things that are done in templar training, to show devotion and maintain their own dwelling. It was taught that the Maker gave them strength and sense, so they could use it. Denerim needed both from him as it rebuilt, and Alistair was more than willing to provide it.

He hefted a bit of lumber over his shoulder, grunted and then walked carefully towards the house they were working on in the market square. This wasn't the lower market, where he'd gone when they'd first visited Denerim, but rather the fancy market where most of the nobles shopped. The lower market was still in dangerous disarray but he hadn't been able to get there yet. The soldiers near him were his own, but they didn't stop people from getting too close to him and they helped in the work. None of them complained about coming out to the city every single day, but he knew none would be sad when it was over. Maybe they'd expected him to retreat back to the castle before too long, but Alistair couldn't see himself doing that until Denerim looked more like a city again. He hummed softly as he worked, surprised to hear a song he'd almost forgotten, the snatches of a song Hilde said her mother used to sing to her before she got sent to the Circle. It made him smile as he worked.

Hilde was different. Alistair wasn't even sure if she was aware of just how different she'd become in their time apart, but she was. She was always be brave and bold and tempting, there was more thought behind it now. He could see her considering things with Anora with a caution she hadn't possessed before. He liked that it tempered her, made her think more and react less. He hoped that there was some like growth in him, that he might become a man that earned respect instead of demanding it. When he thought back on how he walked out of the Landsmeet, angry and barely speaking to anyone, he knew he still had a far road to travel.

There are so many people in Denerim, and Alistair feels like they all want to talk to him. It’s been good work among them, to do more than just be a face in the castle that resembled the last king.

"Don't touch that," Alistair said, stopping the hand of a worker from reaching out to unearth what looked like a sword hilt. He could feel the malignancy on it, though he wasn't sure how it could have been tainted. Probably just the way the darkspawn make their weapons, especially once they'd grown enough in power to come to Denerim. 

"Is it darkspawn made, Ser?" The man was openly respectful to Alistair. He didn't know how this noble was, but he'd been out every day helping with the cleanup.

"Yes." Alistair was certain once he wrapped his hand in a scrap of linen and picked it up. It was barbed, and thought it did not break his skin, he could feel it stinging.

"How you know?' Another voice piped up, and Alistair turned to find speaker. It was a boy, just on the cusp of manhood. He had the long, coltish limbs of someone who had grown too fast, and was painfully thin. A scar went across his left cheek.

"I'm still a Grey Warden, even if I am king." Alistair said and the young man flushed. 

"Didn't know it was you, Your Highness." The boy made to kneel, but Alistair helped him back up. There was no need to dip into the mud for him.

"It's alright. We all have to work together, so that's what I'm out here doing. I wouldn't just sit in the palace all day and send out soldiers." His words then caused most of the people around him to kneel, despite his attempt to stop the boy earlier. They looked up at him as if he'd just started speaking the words of the Maker instead of good sense. He was reasonably good with a hammer and possessed of strength. What did rank matter when it came to doing the right thing?

Apparently, it mattered a lot to people that had little or no rank. He found it was like a badge of special privilege that others used to deflect from their lack of usefulness in dire times.

"That can't possibly be the king working with the commoners, can it?" Alistair heard the noble and almost recognized the voice, but ignored it. Anyone that wanted a functioning capital should have been out clearing the rubble with him, not trying to figure out who he was. 

The man next to him snorted. "Those fucking wanks. Digging a latrine isn't kingly work, but a king has to shit same as everyone else."

Alistair didn't even try to hold in his laughter. It was true, and he'd done plenty of work for the Chantry and the Wardens that wasn't kingly at all. If that was how the nobles wanted their king, nothing would get done. Better to be in the dirt and let it leave its mark under his fingernails each day and bear the callouses the axe handle raised on his hands than to be useless. He was a commoner, he was king, and he was a Grey Warden. If he could be all of those things because his duty demanded it, then he could certainly be whatever his heart wanted, whether it was alone or committed to two women.

He would not be a useless man, even if he was a king. Kings were men, just as any others and with that thought, Alistair decided to seek happiness like any other man. 

But if he granted himself this leeway, then he would have to grant it to Loghain as well, and all his cronies. It was an uncomfortable idea to think on. He would never be bosom friends with Loghain, but he was starting to understand, just a little, how things had gone so wrong for him. But he couldn’t keep blaming Hilde for recruiting him. She loved him, he knew that. Bad decisions with good intentions had been her only crime. Alistair pushed a beam into place with the help of his soldiers and was handed a hammer. Maker, they would run out of nails at this point. He hoped that Hilde's alchemy could actually get him some more iron from stone or something, or Denerim's reconstruction would grind to a halt.

Hilde. He was going to go and find her and kiss her under she was breathless, and beg her forgiveness once again, just as soon as he finished building this house. He would find Anora and kiss her too, and tell her that if she could find love for his bruised knuckles and his regrets and the things he would never understand but would try to know, then he would love her too. 

He was certain he could love them both, if they let him. Then maybe he'd request a little healing for his sore muscles, and some of that salve Hilde used to make from cayenne peppers during the Blight. It could burn something fierce, but it heated and eased any stiffness from the limbs and would banish what soreness the magic couldn't. The prospect of it all brightened him, and the soldiers listened to their king whistling off-key as he worked.


	10. Chapter 10

"Excuse me, my lady Warden." A guard came to Hilde's greenhouse and bowed at the door. He looked around suspiciously, then coughed and took a step back. The greenhouse was an ever-changing mix of floral perfumes and fertilizers. 

It was a miserable day, as it had been for the last few days. Rain made the air heavy and dense as overworked dough. Any progress in the city was ground down to a standstill as the rain droned on. Hilde hoped it would at least erode away the spots of blighted topsoil around the city, and leave behind something that with which she could work. Alistair had reluctantly cut back his time within Denerim, since the construction was halted. It was gloomy, overcast and sticky, and tempers were getting frayed.

"What is it?" Hilde asked, her attention not focused on the interruption. 

There were a few plants were to go into the larger garden, the flowers to help attract pollenating insects and the others were mostly food related. If she could make the palace more self-sufficient, it would free up resources for the people. The rain was a problem, however. Perhaps she could talk Alistair into helping her construct a pergola that could be set into the ground once it firmed up again.

"There's an elf down in the lower market, we stopped her trying to take extra food from the distribution cart. It's a red-headed woman, and she said that she knew you and fought in the battle in the alienage."

Hilde's head snapped to attention. The Dawn Ring on her finger twitched, and she remembered the woman that gave it to her. "Shianni. Is she in trouble?"

The guard shook his head. "We just didn't want her stealing, and we were going to take her to the lock up for the rest of the day, but she started screaming her head off, threatening everyone in earshot. That's when she, um, mentioned that she knew you."

"I met a great many people during the Blight, but I do remember Shianni. Let her go and tell her I will come to see her at her home in an hour. Please get me a cart to take to the alienage" Hilde turned away from the guard, dismissing him. 

"My lady, if you please, the rains have increased. There could be flooding today. I know you've faced down an archdemon, but the floods are likely to be terrible after so many days of rain."

"Then we'd better hurry. Please see to the cart." Hilde said, giving the guard a salute.

He saluted her back, the bow of his head deeper than hers had been, then sped off to do as he was told. 

"Markus, please get a cart ready with some of the herbs and a couple of the tomato plants and beans. Be sure to put in the trellises for them. Oh, and some of the root vegetables and cabbage. I don't know if there's room for them, but we can try." 

"Certainly, my lady," said the tranquil.

It was early in the day, and Hilde had meant to go to see Anora. Alistair had come to her the night before, and she'd soothed his aches and listened to him bear his heart. When he was done, he left her alone with all the thoughts in her head and the feeling in her heart.

If Alistair could be so willing to be a fool for love - so mad, willing, and brave - couldn't she? Once it wouldn't have been a question, Hilde would have been eager to throw herself headlong into it and laughed at the thought that anything might go wrong. But now, she knew doubt and loss and it tempered her step. 

But what was life without loss? It wasn't very meaningful. Engaging in such a relationship would change what she had with Alistair, could possibly even cause her to lose him again. She'd never get anywhere if she lived in fear of what might happen, or in this case, happen again. They'd been apart once before, and it hadn't killed her. Her heart hadn't stopped, and she'd just gone on living her life. And if she didn't take this chance, Maker, she would wonder about it, how happy they all might have been, for the rest of her life.

"The cart is at the gates my lady, and I've loaded the wheelbarrow full of the requested plants. I've also put in some extra fertilized soil, for transplanting," Markus informed her in his calm voice. She turned and smiled at him.

"Good. Thank you. I know what I need to do. Will you accompany me?"

"Yes, my lady."

"Then let us get under way, before the guards have cause to arrest Shianni again and she really gets mad." Hilde left the garden with a purposeful stride, carrying her small hand tools for gardening.

#

Queen Anora sent a messenger to fetch Hilde not long after she'd departed the palace, bound for the alienage. The messenger came back to tell a disappointed Queen where the warden had gone, and to see if she still wanted the message delivered.

"Yes, please." Anora was distracted, but then added, "tell her to come back at her earliest convenience."

She wanted to see Hilde. On the second rainy morning Alistair had come to her and told her of his feelings for the both of them. He said nothing of Hilde, just that he was willing, unconventionality be damned. It took Anora less than a second to agree, kissing him with all the pent up passion that had troubled her mind in Redcliffe.

Talking to Hilde was a slightly more daunting prospect, because she'd ran away the last time they'd tried to talk. The memory of their shared kiss crept into her thoughts at the strangest moments, and over reports and documents Anora found herself thinking of the light touch of Hilde's hands and her soft lips.

But that wasn't what she needed to talk to the warden about, and it certainly wasn't the reason she'd sent a messenger for her. The reason was taking an early tea with her.

"I am glad you're well, father," Anora said. "And it is good that you've come back before the rains get any worse. But what of these dwarven emissaries you've brought with you, are you sure they are who they claim to be? I've had no news out of Orzammar." 

Under normal circumstances, she would have heard from a number of reliable sources whenever anything from Orzammar was headed her way, but the war had taken its toll on her network. Now, she was lucky to hear anything at all. It was expected that some things would fall through, but she felt foolish that she'd heard nothing of this envoy. The more she tried to put Ferelden back together, the more fissures and cracks she saw.

"Hilde had one, a note about trouble on the northern roads as you were headed to the Warden's Keep, but nothing since." 

Loghain raised an eyebrow at Anora's use of the warden's name, but his daughter didn't notice.

"Damn, I tried to send word ahead. It was on our way there that we found the dwarves, fighting for their lives against the darkspawn. Ser Cauthrien was wounded fighting them, a ferocious bunch, but she has recovered some. They had an official letter from King Bhelen Aeducan, and a member of his household, though not an Aeducan."

"The dwarven king sent a member of his household to the surface?" Anora believed that these people were legitimate less and less as her father spoke.

"Yes, I believe the new king is a very young man with radical ideas, but you'd have to ask someone with a better understanding of their politics. The Warden is acquainted with their political structure; she helped Bhelen cement his claim to the throne. At any rate, it's a young man with a casteless brand named Leske, some sort of uncle or what have you to the prince Aeducan that a concubine produced and was raised to the house but chose to go to the surface. He was useful in the fights, used to living by his wits if I'm any judge."

Loghain must have seen incredulity in Anora's face, because he let out a great laugh. "I was once one of those idealistic young men. Perhaps the dwarves will revert back to their old ways, time will tell. For now, it seems that their king is interested in making more surface ties. It is to be expected, and Ferelden will be long in recovery. Examine each offer with a skeptical eye and wide smile."

"Of course." Anora agreed, and let her father eat in silence. Maker, he seemed to eat more food than ever now that he was a warden, but perhaps it was just because he had been so long on the road. She pushed another plate of pastry towards him.

Anora still didn't quite understand it all, but if her father believed they were true emissaries and had helped them to come here, she wasn't going to question it. Her father, of all people, was always on his guard for threats to Ferelden. These dwarves must have impressed them. She set her teacup down and went to the door to have Erlina summoned to her.

"Well then Father, it seems we have a feast to prepare in honor of our guests. I hope we can manage one in these dire times. We mightn't have more to give them than Antivan brandy and turnip soup."

"I've always thought that turnip soup was best when followed by a good brandy." Loghain commented. Anora wasn't so sure, but smiled anyway. Erlina came into the room and stood silently near the door.

"Please send King Alistair word of the dwarven envoy and we will greet them formally in a quarter hour. Prepare rooms for them in the guest wing. Has the messenger come back from delivering the message to the Hero of Ferelden?"

"Right away, Your Majesty. No, the messenger hasn't come back yet, but I will send someone to keep watch."

"Thank you, Erlina." The elf gave a small bow and saw herself out of the room at speed.

The day had just gotten much busier, and Anora's need to speak to Hilde increased as the likelihood of being able to see her in private before dinner decreased.


	11. Chapter 11

There was more for their dinner that evening than brandy and turnip soup, and no sign of strain from the kitchens. Had Hilde not known of their rush, she wouldn't have been able to tell by the food served. When she'd returned to the castle, completely sodden and smiling about Shianni, both she and Markus had been politely besieged and asked if they could give some of their greenhouse produce to the dinner tonight. There was a very good potato and leek soup that utilized the vast majority of her leeks and some of her garlic. Hilde was almost proud as she tasted it, though she hadn't made the soup herself.

Most of the commotion from the arrival of their guests had died down by the time Hilde returned. The alienage had been in a bad way, and most of the damage there was only slowly being repaired. Alistair had ordered work to commence there, but the human workers weren't welcomed by the elves, and tensions arose even from good intentions. Most of the fire damage from the battle had been repaired, but there were a great many homes still unsuited for living, either through collapses or other damage. She and Markus hadn't been able to plant anything in their garden, it was as waterlogged as the rest of Denerim, but Shianni had taken possession of their plants and instructions. She distributed the herbs to be grown inside houses, to those who had windows that got sunlight, and took the rest herself. It was a start.

Denerim wasn't a happy place. When the sun shone and soldiers, builders and trade flowed, they could work at being better. But the rain depressed the people, stopped much of the rebuilding and slowed trade. People were wet, miserable and hungry. She'd done her best as they went through the city, waving at those that called out wanting her attention and helping in what little ways she could. When she got back to the palace, a cough had settled in her chest, her thick hair was plastered in a huge, frizzy knot that had once been a becoming chignon and her robes might not be able to be saved, the mud was caked so firmly into them. It had indeed started to rain harder and flood as she was coming back into the palace. Had she stayed out longer, she would have been caught in it.

Inside the Royal Palace seemed far removed from the torrential rains outside its walls. The table before the was magnificent, redolent with delicious smells, talkative guests and good cheer. Alistair did not even seem to mind the presence of Loghain, though the king was steadily ignoring Loghain seated fas far away from as propriety would allow. Alistair stayed in conversation with the dwarves, with only the occasional interjection from Eamon. Their guests seemed oblivious to any slight their host may or may not have been issuing and talked on.

Anora sat at the other end of the table from Alistair, in a matching high-backed chair. Hilde was seated on her right, with one of the members of the dwarven caravan to her left. Glass hurricanes held candles that lit the length of the table, and Anora's golden hair gleamed in the ambient light. The dwarf was called Leske, and Hilde faintly remembered him. He reminded her of how they'd met - when she freed him from Jarvia's prison in Dust Town - and then spent most of his time talking with Loghain about the changes to dwarven society since King Bhelen had come to rise. Loghain's face remained a picture of incomprehension as he tried to learn about the complicated rules of the foreign society. He had never spent much time with dwarves that weren't in the Legion of the Dead.

They were nearly finished with roast course of the meal and waiting on the salad to be served when Hilde took her chance to speak with Anora. She was feeling as brave as she was going to get, and filled with roast beef, carrots and asparagus. After the meal there would be drinks and then they would let their guests adjourn to their quarters, but Hilde would be expected to entertain. She was not a royal, but the duties of the host still fell upon her as a representative of the Grey Wardens and Ferelden. 

"I spoke with Alistair last night," Hilde said, addressing Anora in a low voice. "But I hadn't yet spoken to you."

"Is this the right time?" Anora asked, taking a sip of her wine as soon as she spoke.

"I fear that there might never be a right time, and I feel this matter should not wait any longer. Silence can be an answer, and it's not the one I want to convey." She took a deep breath and then breathed out slowly, steeling herself. "I find myself in agreement with the king and eager to pursue an...arrangement." She had no idea what to call it so that others would think she was just talking about everyday business and not anything more.

Anora smiled, a tremulous, fleeting smile that betrayed her nerves. "I had wondered if you might be, since I also found myself agreeing with Alistair when we discussed it. I am happy we're all in agreement. That would please me, for us to begin this new venture."

It all sounded like normal, boring court business if anyone had cared to listen. Hilde doubted their exchange had caught the ear of anyone else, the discussion had grown more lively as the evening wore on the food worked towards loosening tongues. She and Anora could be discussing the planting of new trees for all anyone knew, or a memorial for the Blight. But no tree or statue could have created the giddy bolt of relief and desire that sparked through Hilde as she took in Anora's words. 

They said no more about it, but every so often during the salad course, Hilde would feel Anora's eyes on her. From her place all the way down the table, she caught Alistair's eye and smiled.

It would be her last smile for the evening. Desert had yet to be served, but she was feeling pleasantly full and happy, when shouting was heard up and down the palace. Then to her complete horror, the Chantry bell began to ring in the quick, loud succession of warning tolls that came so soon after one another they sounded like one note.

Alistair was the first on his feet, and he was nearly out of the dining hall before Anora spoke up. She asked the table to continue their meal, but asked Hilde to follow Alistair and inform her of what was going on. Hilde nodded, mumbled a request to be excused from the company of the guests and followed Alistair's trail out of the room. 

There was a solider, one of the royal guards, in the middle of the entry when she got there, and a very drenched messenger with him. The messenger had wild eyes, full of fear and unsure what to do next. Alistair was calming him, a hand on his shoulder, speaking in a low voice when Hilde entered.

"Catch your breath and tell me what's going on."

It wasn't the messenger that replied, but the guard. "Your Majesty, ser. The flooding is causing the collapse of some of the ruined structures, and those that haven't been finished yet."

"The ones that haven't been finished yet? They should be secure," Alistair began, the worry that he had left a work site ripe for ruin making him frown.

"Not the ones the soldiers have been working on, it's the things people have been building themselves. Some people need help faster than we can get to them, so they've taken to having a go themselves."

"Maker's breath," Hilde swore, and Alistair turned to see her for the first time. He didn't smile, but held out a steadying hand that caught her elbow.

"Evacuate as many as possible into the Chantry, and any other buildings that have space for them. Ask neighbors to shelter each other, even if the fit is tight. Are there people trapped in the buildings?" Alistair asked.

"Yes, Your Majesty." The messenger spoke for the first time. "The Chantry is requesting our aid in saving these people."

"I will come with you," Hilde said, and Alistair nodded. 

"Tell Anora and get Loghain, he might as well make himself useful. I'm going to get changed," he said and Hilde asked her question with her glance at him.

"I can't lift wet stone or whatever they've been using to build in these clothes. I should at least put on some decent boots and leather armor. Get as many of the guard as can be spared, wake them up if you have to," he said, directing the last bit to the royal guard. 

With that, Hilde hurried back to the dining hall to break the news. Eamon was still weak from his prolonged illness during the Blight, but he would be well enough to stay at the castle with the dwarves. By the time she made it back to Anora, Hilde was already mentally selecting potions to put in her pack.

#

Alistair was the first to respond, calm in his decision and quick in movement. Hilde would heal people, he would go to do what he could and Anora would coordinate. All of them would go, there wouldn’t be enough hands if they didn’t. Erlina and Markus could be sent back to the palace or the Chantry if needed. But time was wasting. He put on leather armor, only because his guards demanded that he change out of his dinner clothes.

"Let us come with you, King Alistair. Dwarves know a little something about collapses and rebuilding." An emissary said. She was waiting when Alistair came to the front hall and he agreed swiftly.

"I will tell your king about your generosity in our time of need, and how gratefully we are for all that you brought us. Truly, you go above and beyond, friend."

The dwarves were under no obligation to honor Alistair at all, then bowed to him as a group. They left to make their own preparations.

When Anora and Hilde met him, they were both changed into outfits better suited than dinner dress. Hilde was in her Warden robes and Anora in a light set of leather. Hilde had a pack of healing potions slung over her shoulders, and Markus the tranquil behind her with his own pack. Loghain was in his warden uniform, and Alistair nodded at him - this was not the time for his anger.

Denerim was eerie in the faint moonlight that managed to pierce the rainclouds. It seemed to consist of mostly flooded shadows, dark spots that sloshed warily with muddy water.

The building that has come down wasn’t even half finished, but he can see that it was weak. It wasn’t one that his men were putting up, but people were getting tired of waiting and there were only so many hands. He doesn’t blame them, but he hopes that their haste hasn’t damned them.

There’s more than one family inside. He can hear them screaming. Hilde tries lifting the beams with her magic and has some success, but it isn’t enough. He slips when he walks on the soaked ground and noticed that it was giving way under his feet. No wonder the building caved in, it probably was shifting from the bottom and the unfinished walls collapsed inward with the makeshift roof falling down onto the sleeping people.

He heard Anora’s voice rallying the guards that came with them, giving instructions, consulting Hilde. They worked well together, he decided. There was something alike in their personalities. Alistair didn’t stop to listen, but carefully begins to shift the soaked debris. Each piece has to be considered before it is moved, or else he might bring more crashing down onto either himself or the people already trapped. Neither option was what he wanted.

Anora halted him with a hand on his shoulder. "I can hear people," she said in a matter of fact voice. 

He can too, and the voices are close. Once stopped from his task, he can hear them crying with distinct voices. There were moans and screeches, wails of despair. Alistair strained to hear and made out the sounds of children and at least two adults, two women. 

"Hello? This is Queen Anora. To whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?" she asked, her voice carrying over the sound of rain and soldiers shuffling aside debris. Anora was calm, her voice clear, but he could see the corners of her mouth turned down with worry as she spoke. The frown deepened the longer they waited for a reply.

"Gretchen. My name's Gretchen." A thin, defeated voice said from somewhere beneath a pile of rubble. "Please, Your Majesty, save my kids."

"We will do our best to save you all. King Alistair is here, as is the Hero of Ferelden. We are all going to try our best. Talk to me while we work. Stay with me." Anora said, and though she the words were said with an air of command, they were pleas.

"You want me to keep talking?" Gretchen asked, sounding strained. There was no surprise in the voice, just tiredness. Alistair wondered how badly the mother was hurt.

"If you can. Are your kids with you or are they someplace else?"

"My littlest is here, but I've an older girl, Jacey, further in."

When the woman said her daughter was with her, Anora made a motion and the guards surged forward. The wall above where Gretchen's voice was heard had caved in. It must have come down quickly, because she was trapped in the middle of it, as if she'd seen it coming and had tried to move, but it caught her as she did. The wall had fallen both outward and inward, with the top falling in after the bottom gave way. The flooding had done it in, loosening the ground underneath and keeping the mud mortar bonds from drying between the stones. There was straw all over, especially further in where the roof beam from the house had come down. A thatched roof had been in the works, or even partially stared, but the rains had come too soon for it to be completed.

Alistair followed the line of the wall and found water rushing in, pooling. Gretchen and her daughter would be in danger of drowning and at least one other house had a collapse similar to this one, with the wall facing the same direction. He dispatched some of his soldiers to go as far in as could be allowed by the debris and to report back. Lives may depend on it.

The work to save Gretchen was slow going, and he became just another pair of hands that worked as Anora kept talking to the woman. Her baby was whimpering, muffled at her breast, but there was no danger of drowning - water was flowing downhill from where they were. It was going further into the house, back where they could not yet reach. 

Water was seeping through Alistair's armor already, but it did not matter. The dwarves were already in motion, helping the soldiers move and crack rocks carefully, when they could not lift them. The buzz of Hilde's magic flared up in his senses and he knew she'd found someone, saved someone, because the warmth of a healing spell could be felt pulsing until at the end he heard the great cough meant to clear lungs. 

He worked on, even as rains poured from the sky and showed no sign of stopping despite his silent entreaties to the Maker. Anora still spoke with Gretchen, and she too was getting rid of rock and rubble, drawing closer to the woman with whom she spoke. She managed to keep her voice level as she worked, showing no strain or detachment. 

Then Gretchen was free and the wails of a loud baby filled the air. Hilde was already there, checking them over as the small elven woman clung to Anora. There was the briefest flare of healing magic, and then Anora was leading them away, getting them to someplace where they could be checked and tended. Gretchen protested going too far - one of her children was still in the house, and they left his line of vision but he could still hear them. Nearby then, and hopefully someplace relatively dry.

"Alistair, let me try something." Hilde stood in front of his group of soldiers, and they collectively took a step back when she raised her hands.

The wood beam that pinned some of the rock to the ground groaned wetly, but it rose neatly, water sluicing off the ends when Hilde lifted her hands. Carefully, she made it levitate and moved it towards them until the group of soldiers could take hold of it. They took it from the worksite and deposited it out of the way of their efforts. Hilde staggered once, caught herself and then turned to smile at him.

"I've only ever done that once before. It's spell energy, focused by my will. I can lift things, and direct them, but nothing too heavy. Might be able to levitate some of the smaller rocks so the soldiers can get some leverage."

"That might be all we need to save more people, love." He smiled at her, though he wasn't sure his mud flecked face would please her. 

Then they were thrown back into their rescue efforts, the din of it all blocking out any more conversation. They still had more lives to save, and Alistair could hear the cries for help from the another girl, one he hoped was Gretchen's older daughter. There were still more people further in, trapped in what would have been the next house in the row. Sweat and rainwater stung his eyes, but Alistair bent and moved more of the rock out of the way. Someone started working next to him, movements in concert with his own, and he did not bother too look up to see who it was. 

They work for hours, until Alistair is sure that they've cleared through most of the two houses. There was only one person dead, struck in the head by a falling rock that would have made death instantaneous. Alistair could feel himself flagging, movements getting slower as they worked on. It was truly night now, dark and heavy, its only relief that the rain had slowed some as it wore on. 

"Rescue efforts go on across the city. There are no other places as bad as this one was, but the crews are working to get everyone to the safety of the Chantry or other secure buildings, Your Majesty." The captain of the guard for the lower section of Denerim was reported to him. 

Alistair thanked him for the news and then broke up the crew that had been working with him at the beginning of the night. He offered the Orzammar envoys a chance to go back to the castle, and a few of them did, too tired to continue on. At some point he'd become aware that Loghain was the person working next to him as they shifted rubble, and he hadn't bothered with conversation. Now he was too tired to make an effort to do more than nod at the man when he spoke.

“Go back to the castle, King Alistair.” Loghain growled. “You cannot do more. Let me take it from here. Take the queen and warden Hilde with you.”

Alistair nodded resignedly. Loghain would be able to oversee the work as well as anyone else. He had to trust the man as a warden, even if he wasn't much of anything else. It was nearly morning and both Hilde and Anora were flagging. It was time to make sure they got back to the castle safely.


	12. Chapter 12

It was still raining when they trundled into the castle, but there wasn’t much more for the three of them to do. Anora was limping until Hilde noticed and sucked in a hard breath, then used the last remains of her mana to cast a healing spell. It almost knocked her down, but Alistair’s arm caught her around the waist and brought her back up. They were all covered in mud, tracking it in over the excellent carpets and floors of the palace. Not one of them cared.

By some unspoken agreement, they all went to Anora’s quarters. It may have been because despite her limp, she was leading them, or because Alistair and Anora’s rooms adjoined and it was really just Hilde following them. Whatever the reason, they stayed together, silent and exhausted, and filed into Anora’s private chambers.

The bath was already filled, and Hilde stripped without thought, laying her robes down in a cold, wet heap near the door. Then she helped Alistair unbuckle his armor, because he was caked with grime and moving stiffly. Anora was disrobed before Hilde knew it, and she'd settled herself in the water. She just sat there, letting it take the chill out of her. Alistair was also hurt, though he hid it better than Anora. Of the three of them, Hilde alone had no injuries, but was simply drained of both energy and mana, and was shivering with cold.

They didn't speak as Alistair and Hilde settle themselves in next to Anora. The heat of the water felt glorious, soothing away the aches and scrapes she'd sustained and hadn't healed. It was a lucky thing that the stone bath was oversized, because Hilde didn't think that she could have waited to take one. After a few minutes of just sitting, absorbing the heat from the water, Hilde was able to cast another healing spell, blanketing the three of them. The sore muscles and small cuts she'd sustained started to fade, and she saw visible relief on Alistiar's face. He had been hiding an injury.

When it was clear that Anora wasn’t alright, Hilde took the queen in her arms. She unbraided her wet hair, sodden cornsilk stained with grime. Hilde loosened it from the familiar regal coils that sit at the nape of her neck, and let the filthy golden hair spill loosely into the bath. She took the pitcher near the bath and filled it under the water, then poured it over Anora. Alistair massaged life back into Hilde’s feet with his hands as she worked.

They managed to all get reasonably clean, with Hilde washing Anora's hair, then her own. Alistair dunked his head into the water like a dog, earning a small laugh from Anora. He beamed at her when she chuckled.

They would need another bath, but that will have to happen after some sleep. A selection of cold food awaited them on a tray, but Anora bypassed it in favor of her bed. Both Hilde and Alistair could not - they still had the Grey Warden appetite. It was the food that did Hilde in; she absolutely could not keep her eyes open after eating her fill, and she retired to Anora's bed, slipping in behind the queen. When she closed her eyes, her mind was too tired to conjure any dreams and for that, she was glad.

When she woke up, Hilde was between a very naked king and queen, who were both talking in whispers over her head. Anora’s slender legs were tangled with hers under the counterpane, and her head rested on Alistair’s chest. Their nudity had seemed like nothing of interest in such an exhausted state, but when she awoke, it was another matter. It stirred her interest dangerously, and Hilde felt her body heat in response. It would be useless to fight her own eagerness, especially while she was trapped between the two bodies she so desired.

She didn’t want words, not now. They’d been so silent and wonderful earlier, and Hilde wanted that again. She let herself be known, nuzzling into Alistair’s chest, wiggling her backside against Anora. The motions quieted both king and queen, garnering her intended result without the need to speak.

Apparently Anora agreed with her, because the queen placed a kiss on the back of her neck, then one on her shoulder. Alistair stopped whatever whispered argument he’d been about to resume and looked down into her eyes. Yes, she tried to say without having to speak a word. Right now, yes, and maybe forever.

There would have to be words, Hilde realized, even if it shattered the romantic vision in her head. She and Alistair may have the benefit of familiarity, of comfort and knowing their limits together, but Anora did not. She joined their hands on her body, taking first Anora’s small, neat palm in her own hand and placing it on her hip, then putting Alistair’s hand over it. She felt the fingers intertwine over her skin and smiled.

"Anora, you'll have to tell us what you like. If anyone grows uncomfortable, we should all agree to stop as well." Hilde said.

"Agreed." Anora and Alistair spoke in unison.

Then Alistair leaned down to kiss her, his hand tightening on her hip, still clasping Anora's hand. He was so pleasantly familiar, the scratch of his stubble against her face, tongue teasing hers in just the right way to get things started between them. Hilde's hand slid down his chest as they kissed, feeling the muscle tighten as her hand descended.

Anora was not shy, and not about to be left out of any opening volley of kisses. "Now it's my turn." she said, and Alistair reached over to kiss her. Then Hilde obliged her request, letting their lips meet so soon after moved away that Anora didn't have time to catch her breath.

Despite their familiarity with each other, Alistair and Hilde were not vastly experienced with adding another person to their coupling. There were moments when no one seemed to know what to do or say, but those were covered with either questions or kisses. Alistair liked to ask for direction, and Anora preferred kissing. They started out in a melee of sorts, kissing what could be reached, brushing skin against skin, and learning what made Anora make soft moans of pleasure.

It was clear that it would be better if they focused on Anora, so Hilde subtly moved her into the middle of the bed. With her hair fanned out on the pillow, she looked like a goddess. They worked down her form, Alistair starting on her left and Hilde on her right side. She wasn't passive, but overwhelmed by the attention, so much of it paid to her by two eager lovers with four hands and two mouths, it was a memorable experience.

Hilde let her fingers trail along Anora's shoulder and downward, feeling the satiny smooth skin grow warmer under her touch. Alistair shot a smile at her and she grinned back just before she fondled Anora's breast and sucked, feeling the nipple harden against her tongue. She traced her tongue around the nipple before sucking it harder, relishing in the moan it drew from the queen. Anora whispered to Alistair as Hilde worked and he began to kiss her neck, making her back arch up off the bed under their combined efforts.

He moved to kiss Anora's lips and she busied herself teasing nipples as pale pink as unripened strawberries. Anora kissed Alistair with a gusto that bordered on feverish, her actions filled with a hunger Hilde hadn't seen in her before. She liked the revelation that was Anora in bed. She was demanding while succumbing to her own wants, but also eager to please.

Alistair moved from Anora's mouth downward. He made a short pass over a nipple but mostly left them to Hilde's attentions. He kissed a path down Anora's stomach and then, to Hilde's complete surprise, began a sweeping caress down her back. It went back and forth, up her back and down to her thighs, over the curve of her arse and up again. The feeling of his hands on her, heated every inch of her skin. Hilde was well acquainted with those hands and all their talents - she'd taught those hands much of their repertoire. The motion coaxed her into moving with it, sliding further down Anora's body until Hilde rested between Anora's legs.

Her head dropped between Anora's thighs and she splayed her legs a little further, granting Hilde greater access to her. Hilde could feel her tensing and releasing as she licked, and then Alistair urged Hilde onto all fours. She was just on the edge of the bed, kissing Anora's thighs with her backside high in the air. Alistair's hands ran over the newly available parts of Hilde, examining the curves and planes of her body. His touch was electric, exciting and demanding, making Hilde's nerves stand on end. Every touch was stoking the heat within, making her wetter.

Hilde's tongue flattened against Anora, rubbing an unyielding line up and back down again, tasting the length of her slit. Wetness seeped from Anora in response and Hilde repeated it again, until the soft folds were too slick for her to get purchase against them. A finger slid inside Anora's perfect tightness, and Hilde concentrated her tongue on drawing teasing Anora's pearl. When she sucked on it, Anora gasped as though air couldn't reach her lungs. Alistair watched as it unfolded, a lazy hand stroking between Hilde's legs with a distracted gentleness.

Anora came hard and unexpectedly, twisting beneath Hilde's mouth with a sudden cry. Her release galvanized Alistair and instead of watching, he parted Hilde's nether lips and pushed a finger inside of her. Her cry of surprise mingled with Anora's subsiding moans. Alistair was going to take her from that position, she could feel him growing hard against the back of her thigh as his finger moved in and out.

Hilde sucked Anora's clit lazily, earning a renewed surge of sweet cries until she seemed completely spent. Alistair's thick fingers slipped along, in and out of Hilde, more aggressive, keeping the pressure on the right spots. She was going to come in short order, if he had any say in the matter, and right then, it was entirely in his hands.

His hands raked over her when he finally stood behind her, a hand gliding up the side of one thigh, then the other, both hands moving in a tandem caress over her hips. Hilde was electrified, still feeling the waves of her pleasure. He slid inside of her on the dying embers of her climax. He moved quickly, building up the pace relentlessly, wound too tight after watching both her and Anora release. Alistair's fingers pulled her hips to him every time she moved away, and he thrusted deeper and deeper into her. Hilde loved it when Alistair didn't restrain his strength and gave in to the roughness that desire brought out in him.

Anora was still beneath her, and watched the two of them. She seemed fascinated, her blue eyes wide and taking in even the smallest of motions. She saw the way his fingers squeezed the flesh at around Hilde's hips, the way the vein in his neck grew tighter as Alistair tried desperately to hold onto his control.

"Are you content to watch, or would you like me to make you come again?" Hilde asked, the words broken up between gasps. As much as Anora enjoyed playing the voyeur, she saw no reason to deny herself any pleasure and said so.

There was no finesse to Hilde's mouth as it descended on Anora again, but she didn't want this to become about watching. Maybe another time, but just then she wanted to make sure they were all getting what they wanted. Hilde let herself just feel, not concentrating too much on what Alistair was doing, but just doing what felt like it should come next. Anora responded well to her renewed touch, even as Hilde's tongue made inelegant swipes around her clit, again and again, slow alternating with fast as Alistair demanded more of her attention and then less. Then Alistair pulled away from her and out, and gave her rear a playful slap.

"Think we could switch places?" he asked, and Hilde obliged. Anora approved of the change.

Alistair was very careful as he slid inside of Anora for the first time. Hilde saw the gentleness that would have been wasted on her showered upon Anora. It was sweet and intimate, and her hands were more sweet as they returned to Anora. She teased Anora's nipples again, watching them resume their hardness with just the merest attention. She let a finger circle Anora's clit, and her hand could brush where Anora and Alistair joined. Feeling them, the wetness and heat they generated made Hilde suck harder on Anora's nipple.

Anora was vocal in her pleasure and it was spurring Alistair on. There was no instruction in her moans except not to stop, so neither of them did. He wasn't going to last a very long time, since he'd already built up a great deal of his own pleasure inside of Hilde. It didn't matter - there would be plenty more chances to test his stamina, but not after a night of lifting masonry off people. The snap in Alistair's rhythm told her that he was getting close to finishing, and Anora too was close to another climax.

Hilde felt Anora's stomach muscles tighten and both her hand and mouth worked harder. She sucked and pulled at the nipple, scraping teeth over it before capturing it again. Her hand strummed against the hard pearl in quick time. The onslaught of sensations sent Anora reeling, and Then he was flying, hard grunts as he hilted himself deeply within Anora then pulled out almost completely. Each stroke after was fast, shallow and pushed him over the edge. He worked himself through it, his thrusts getting slower and deeper until he pulled out completely, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

Hilde slipped back into bed, this time she on the left and Alistair on the right of Anora. She thought they might go back to sleep, but before she could even think of drifting off, Anora spoke.

"I think Hilde only had one release. We should grant her another."

"You know, I think you're right," Alistair said. Hilde could hear the mischief in his voice, and knew that this was going to be a much longer night than she could have planned.

#

Nothing else immediately after that first night was as easy as falling into bed with both Alistair and Anora. It still rained the next morning, and for another miserable day after that. Then it broke, the skies cleared into a bright, crisp blue and the whole city sighed in relief. Once the rains stopped, Alistair went back to work with his contingent of royal workers, this time also accompanied with the dwarven delegation volunteers. They waited only for the ground to firm up before they began building again.

Before the rains stopped, Anora was back at the bargaining table and was working hard to make sure that Ferelden would have the aid that it was due. Ferelden deserved more, especially from Orlais. They'd sat on their resources since Loghain closed the border at the beginning of the Blight. She would remind Empress Celene of the second Blight that swept through Orlais, and how close this one came to tarnishing their lands again.

There were more wounded in the Chantry than Hilde realized. With Markus to help her, she didn’t need to abandon her research to make time to help heal them. People were still dying, and she was still sworn to protect them. It did her good to be out again - she hadn’t realized that she’d cut her self off when she came back to Denerim, not until she was called out of the castle. She could be a healer, just as she had studied to be in the Circle, and that was fulfilling. She sent Loghain out of the city again, when he was able. There needed to be someone checking in on Avernus, and she felt that Loghain would appreciate the history of Soldier’s Peak, or at least, the irony of it.

The whole of Denerim was weeks recovering from the rain, though it did not set back construction as much as feared. While it had delayed a great deal of their commerce and supplies from Gwaren and points beyond, it all came into the city at once afterward and it felt like a rush of prosperity. Hilde was grateful for anything that seemed good after that horrible night.

It was about three weeks later, after their official dwarven guests had left, either to return outside of Orzammar, where Alistair and Anora's letter of thanks would be handed to a guard beyond the doors and taken to the King or to stay on the surface and work. More than she realized chose to go back, though a few stayed behind. There was no more pressing engagements, but there was still more than enough work to go around. Hilde was planning on taking a trip to the Circle of Magi to compare her research notes with some of the botanists there. She was hoping that Ines would be there, though she was prone to going off on her own for weeks.

But that was for the a later day. Just then the sky was already dark and littered with stars that glittered like diamonds across inky velvet. Hilde lay in Anora’s bed, her body engulfed by Alistair’s. Anora was sitting at her dressing table, the last one to come in from a long day. They had been waiting for her.

“Anora?" she asked, hoping that the sound of her beckoning voice would coax the queen into bed with them more quickly.

“Yes, Hilde, darling?” Anora asked sweetly.

Hilde chuckled in her soft, rich voice. “Hilde, darling. I like that.” Alistair inaudible rumbled his approval, stroking a hand down the length of her side. “Come to bed.”

And for once, Anora listened to her on the first request and got up to lay on the other side of Alistair. He liked being in the middle, and moved to lay on his back so he could gather each of them in an arm. Across his muscled stomach, Hilde and Anora held hands. It was strange still to her, to be surrounded by them and all that it meant, but she didn't want it ever to change. There was no such contentment for her in the Circle, and there would be plenty of time when she would have to leave the palace. So she enjoyed the night, just the contact of Anora's hand in hers and the feeling of Alistair at her side. They had few nights together, but Hilde was content, as were Anora and Alistair.


	13. Epilogue

Sleep eluded both Alistair and Anora in turns. Alistair had the nightmares, the Calling that Hilde had assured her wasn’t real, not yet. Anora kissed the nightmares away from him, whenever he woke up gasping, or started humming the same haunting tune under his breath. She kept him sane when the scratching at the back of his mind was too much, and Alistair loved her for it, and many other reasons. They both tried not to think about Hilde out there, alone, and hearing the same song, facing the nightmares alone.

Each night would find one of them awake, pacing the palace or buried in work meant to keep them from remembering that Hilde wasn't with them. The early days were the worst, not the first month but the months after, when they could no longer pretend she was just away on Warden business or up in Amaranthine. There was no signs of her outside of the few letters they got, and eventually both King and Queen learned to live with the restlessness.

When the Inquisition came to rise, neither was sleeping any better than they had when Hilde left, but there were so many pressing issues weighing on them that there were any number of reasons to lose sleep. When Teagan came from Redcliffe, saying that the mages had banished him, both Alistair and Anora stepped up. When the Inquisition resolved the mage-templar war, neither one of them could ignore the upstart order any longer.

Anora had been inclined to distrust the Inquisition, though less than she distrusted Orlais. So it was to her great surprise that they, through Leliana, reached out to her. A letter came for her and Alistair through the Inquisition, slipped into his hands when he used them to delegate between Ferelden and Orlais. It was more than they'd heard in months.

My dearests Alistair and Anora,  
Please forgive me the brevity of this letter, but I cannot imagine that even if I had several rolls of parchment that I would be able to convey all that I want to say. I miss both of you, more than I can adequately describe. The Inquisition reached out to me, hoping that I had knowledge of the darkspawn that destroyed Haven, but I know nothing. I would ask the Grey Wardens to contact to them through Alistair, but I fear the order will give up none of its secrets to one of their own that happens to be a king.

Aside from that my own search continues. I would not give up now, not when I have come so far, yet I cannot help but miss the comforts of home.

I love you both,  
Hilde

Anora read it aloud to him before bed the night he got back and let her read it. She nearly memorized the words, setting them into her heart. She missed Hilde, as she was sure Alistair did.

When she was finished, Alistair took her hand in his and said, “I miss our wife.” That was exactly how she felt, and whatever the future held, she hoped it would bring Hilde back to them.


End file.
